


Protect What I Found

by allofuswithwings



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bisexuality, Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, Caretaking, Emotional Baggage, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, Feels, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, M/M, Medicinal Drug Use, Romance, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Touch-Starved
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-06-09
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:23:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,416
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7033309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allofuswithwings/pseuds/allofuswithwings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While following a lead on Fisk’s outside contacts, Matt realises he is pursing the same target as his old adversary, Frank Castle.  It’s no shock when they end up ruining each other’s plans, and Matt is injured in the resultant firefight.  What is surprising, however, is Frank’s willingness to protect and care for the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve fudged a few things from the show to fit in with this narrative, though none of it is particularly egregious. I’m also not from the US, so apologies in advance for anything that is or sounds incorrect – I only have google as my reference.
> 
> A very special thanks goes out to [zamokwalls](http://zamokwalls.tumblr.com/). Though she didn’t write any of it, she is co-creator of this story, brain-storming with me the first plot points and setting, as well as giving an enormous amount of advice as the work progressed. She was also more than happy to exchange pics of Frank with me and recount his scenes from DD, as continued motivation. She is my enabler, and I am very grateful for it.
> 
> Lyrics from ‘Daredevil’ by Fiona Apple

~*~

_I guess I must just be a daredevil_

_I don't feel anything until I smash it up_

_I'm caught on the cold, caught on the hot_

_Not so with the warmer lot_

_And all I want's a confidante_

_To help me laugh it off_

~*~

 

 

It was a cool night as Matt picked his way over the rooftops that housed galleries and artists’ workshops in north Chelsea.

 

He hadn’t spent much time in these particular streets recently, not since the trouble around the counterfeit art ring he’d exposed a few weeks back.  It hadn’t even been deliberate – just another shady character he’d tracked back to a warehouse after a violent jewelry heist, who also happened to be part of this particular racket.  But of course, extracting just the target offender had proved impossible, so Matt had been forced to demolish the entire operation.  It had been a little bit of a change from his usual pummelling of street thugs, but crime was crime, whether it be high-end fraud or petty theft.  And his city deserved to be as free of it as possible.

 

That was also why he was here again.  He followed breadcrumbs, whisperings, rumors, that revealed Wilson Fisk still attempting to recapture the streets from inside his prison walls.  The long, faint tendrils of power and influence were spreading out like poison ivy, and Matt was determined to stamp them out before they could infect everything once again.

 

He’d managed to locate one of Fisk’s money-men, Thomas Grant.  He wasn’t the sort of asset-shuffling expert that Leland had been, nor a strong-arm for threatening the uncooperative, but he was an integral part of the process nonetheless.  Even if he couldn’t be persuaded to funnel his funds in a different direction, he could certainly prove to be a further source of information.

 

An expensive new condo at this end of town was where Grant spent most of his time, when he wasn’t at his flashy real estate job.  He lived alone, and tonight his neighbors were also out or already sound asleep – ideal conditions for a visit from the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.  All Matt had to do was wait a little longer for a few stray pedestrians to clear the area and he would be good to go.

 

As he took the last pass over to West 27th, Matt slowed and made a careful descent onto one of the low warehouse rooftops.  A couple of joggers were just moving out of range of Grant’s building, but Matt could still detect someone else coming in this direction a little further down the street.  He shifted his senses to focus in on the person, a check to make sure they weren’t jumpy or suspicious at all.

 

It was the smell that hit him first – not human, but animal.  Dog, to be specific.  A solid, muscular thing, with athletic gait and steady click of claws on the pavement as it trotted slightly ahead of its owner.  Normally, of little consequence in tracking a target that wasn’t intended for confrontation, other than to keep in mind for avoiding detection.

 

But this particular dog made Matt go very still.  Because as he took in its shape, its huffing breaths, and slobbering mouth, he was hit with an unsettling wave of familiarity.  He _knew_ this dog.  He’d met it before.

 

He moved his focus to the human companion walking behind it, and his suspicions were quickly confirmed.  The leather smell of the long coat; the sharp metallic taste of recent wounds; gunshot residue over calloused fingertips; the distinctively military feel of movement as he walked.

 

“Damn it, Frank,” he muttered to himself.

 

Matt wasn’t stupid enough to think this was a coincidence.  He could only guess at what Frank Castle was coming to see Grant for, but whatever it was, it was clearly going to interfere with his own plans.

 

He moved silently to the other end of the warehouse roof, and scaled down into a nearby alley just ahead of where Frank was walking.  Matt flicked his billy club out to knock a pile of trash at the entrance, a glass bottle rolling with a clink over the dirty cement.

 

Frank’s dog made a noise, and a moment later the man himself appeared at the entrance, stopping and leaning against the corner of the wall.  His heartbeat was steady, and Matt could detect a faint curl at the corners of Frank’s mouth.

 

“Here you are making a racket like you think I haven’t noticed your rooftop acrobatics the last few blocks.”

 

Matt huffed a laugh, walking a little closer and pocketing his billy club.  He gestured.

 

“Didn’t want to spook your dog.  Upset animals kind of give away my stealth approach.”

 

Frank gave a small nod, and wrapped the dog’s lead around his hand to pull him in.  He took a full breath in and out before speaking again.

 

“It’s been a while, Red.”

 

It wasn’t a condemnation, nor an expression of nostalgia.  It was just a statement of fact, like most things with Frank.

 

“Nearly six months,” Matt replied.  “I actually thought you might’ve left New York.”

 

He’d sensed Frank here and there in his sweeps of the city in the first few weeks since the showdown with Nobu, but it was never enough to track him by, let alone be found by the police.  Not that Frank was afraid of being caught; he couldn’t care less about the authorities.  But after everything that had happened, Matt wondered if Frank had reached his limit of tolerance for this town.  Or perhaps just needed time to grieve, finally.

 

“I’ve had a few things to take care of.  Haven’t always been around.  But you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

 

“You make it sound like I’ve been trying to, which is not the case.  My priorities are different than they used to be.”

 

“I did tell you, you were one bad day away.”

 

Matt didn’t want to get into a discussion about morality with him again right now.  Especially when it would involve Elektra.

 

“What are you doing here, Frank?”

 

The soldier gave a small shrug.

 

“Just out walking my dog, Red.  How about you?”

 

Matt frowned.

 

“Don’t bullshit me.  I know you’re here for Grant.  What do you want with him?”

 

“That’s my business.”

 

“He’s one of Fisk’s men, I assume you know that.  I hope you’re not back doing favors for him again.”

 

Matt felt Frank’s fingers of his free hand tighten into a fist, and a flash of heat splashed up his throat.  The sudden surge of anger was comforting, at least, as it confirmed Frank had left that particular alliance behind.

 

“Watch your accusations.  I’m still not opposed to beating your ass.”

 

“You can try.”

 

Frank pushed off the wall with his shoulder and loosened his grip on the dog leash.

 

“You should go home, Red.  This isn’t a fight you wanna be in.”

 

Matt moved forward as Frank turned to leave.

 

“Grant is only one source of money behind Fisk’s rebuilding of his empire.  You blow him away and the others will get spooked, close ranks.  I won’t find them, and Fisk will be free to continue his work in the shadows.”

 

Frank let out a chuckle.

 

“For someone who seems to know everything, you sure are dumb as shit sometimes,” he said.

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Frank turned back around, drawing close to Matt.

 

“You think Grant is just some stupid, rich asshole trying to get a ride to power?  There’s a reason Fisk picked him out, and it ain’t because of some bullshit white-collar money tricks.”

 

It wasn’t as if Matt hadn’t done his research.  But all he’d turned up was exactly that – hints of shady business dealings and perhaps some money laundering.  And that wasn’t uncommon in this city.

 

“What then?” he asked.  “Was he involved with what happened to you?  To your family?”

 

Matt knew Frank was going for his throat well before he got his hand there, but he didn’t stop it.  Even if Frank had taken a chance to grieve, the death of his family was still an open wound that might never heal.  Matt didn’t begrudge him the anger.

 

“You might’ve been my lawyer, and saw everything I did, but you don’t know me.  Never have.  Stop trying to figure me out.  And definitely stop talking about my family.  My reasons for what I do are none of your God damn business.”

 

Matt shifted under the grip of Frank’s fingers around his throat, and listened to the raised thud of his heartbeat.  Frank’s rage had always had a tight reign of control about it, even when it came from a place of such ragged emotion.

 

“Maybe,” Matt replied.  “But I need you to hold back on those reasons, just for one more day.  I’ll visit Grant tonight, and then he’s all yours to question.”

 

Frank loosened his fingers but kept the heel of his hand pressed against Matt’s collarbone.  He leaned close, the tip of his nose almost touching the mask.

 

“You really don’t know what you’re getting into, Red.  Trust me when I tell you – leave it _alone_.”

 

“I can’t.”

 

“And I can’t either.  What I’m going to do, I need to do tonight,” Frank informed him.  “Guess you’ll just have to get to him first.”

 

Clearly Frank had learnt much from their previous confrontations, because the next thing Matt knew he was on his knees in skull-splitting agony from an explosive burst.

 

Frank had dropped a flashbang grenade.

 

By the time Matt was able to recover from the screeching in his ears and concussive force, Frank was already gone.  Taking several long breaths and clenching his jaw, Matt retreated back down the alley and scaled the wall, starting to make his way the short distance to Grant’s building.


	2. Chapter 2

 

 

When Matt got to the floor of the condo, he knew Frank was already there.  He’d come across his dog tied up in a nearby alley, and could now sense an unconscious security persons on the lower levels, as well as the smell of more flashbangs.

 

The non-lethal approach surprised Matt.  Though, Frank’s internal logic about who exactly deserved to die had never really made sense to him.  Karen had seemed to understand it.  But well, he didn’t exactly talk much to Karen these days.  It wasn’t as though he could just go and ask her.

 

Matt moved quickly across the long balcony to where it joined Grant’s bedroom, acutely aware of the rabbiting heartbeat further inside the condo, along with the steady tap of Frank’s finger on the trigger of his gun.  Matt cracked the glass of the window with his billy club and then used his elbow to break through, vaulting over the sill and hurrying across the carpet.

 

Out in the main area he found Grant sprawled on his marble kitchen benchtop, Frank’s gun pressed under his chin and blood running out of his nose.

 

“Too slow,” Frank said, not looking over.

 

“Don’t make me do this.”

 

Frank slammed a fist into Grant’s ribs, drawing a wail.

 

“Nobody makes you do anything, Red.  You _choose_.”

 

“Well, I don’t want to have to choose between taking you down and missing this link in the chain to Fisk.”

 

Frank scoffed, shaking his head.

 

“You still think this maggot piece of shit is some lackey with money.  You’re very naïve for a vigilante in Hell’s Kitchen.”

 

“So tell me.  Maybe I can help.”

 

“No.  Only this shitbreak can help,” Frank said, turning his attention back to Grant.  “So I’ll ask again.  Where’s the container?  It was supposed to come in tonight, but I didn’t see it.  What _happened_ to it?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Grant sobbed.  “ _Please_.”

 

It was hard to tell, with his heartbeat already rapid-fire, but there was something off about Grant’s reply.  He could be lying – about the whereabouts of this container, or only about his knowledge of whatever operation Frank was referring to.  But it might also be the fear, the adrenaline, muddying his bodily responses, and he could be telling the truth.

 

“Take the gun out of his face for a minute, and I’ll be able to tell you if he’s lying,” Matt said.

 

“I don’t need that – I _know_ he’s lying.”  He pulled Grant down off the benchtop, gun still at his throat, and took hold of one of his hands.  There was a crack and a scream as Frank broke his little finger.  The soldier didn’t even flinch.  “You have ten of these.  Nine more chances to tell me what I want to know.”

 

As much as Matt beat on people to obtain information, he didn’t like torture.  There had to be another way.

 

He grabbed at the Frank’s wrist where he was gripping Grant’s next finger.

 

“I’ve had more practice at extracting information, without the need to kill or maim.”

 

But Frank elbowed him off.

 

“And look where that’s got you.”  Frank turned back to Grant.  “ _Where_ did the container go?”

 

Grant was breathing hard, trying to manage the pain, but there was sweat dripping down the side of his face.

 

“Why should I tell you shit?  You’re going to kill me anyway.”

 

That wasn’t a lie.  He really did believe Frank would kill him, no matter what he said.  However, it did suggest he knew _something_.

 

“He’s not going to kill you,” Matt said to him.  “Just tell him what you know about this container and let whoever has it take the fall.  There’s still a way out for you.”

 

Frank snarled at him, and then shoved Grant onto the floor, gun still trained on him.  He cocked the trigger.

 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.  Even if you stop me tonight, I’m still going to come back for him eventually,” Frank said.  “I won’t let him get away with what he’s done.”

 

“I don’t think the law does what it should in punishing and stopping some criminals either – hell, it’s the reason I’m here tonight.  But we have to at least give it a chance.”

 

“No.  We don’t.  Not with people like this.”

 

“Just let me take him in, I can–”

 

“ _He’s been selling kids!_ ” Frank thundered.

 

Matt stopped, furrowing his brow.

 

“What?”

 

“Kids.  In from Cambodia, or Burma, or wherever the hell else.”

 

Matt could feel the rush of hot blood in Frank’s veins as he spoke, the ferocity of his anger only barely contained below the surface.  His unwavering defense of the vulnerable was a reflection of his soldier mentality, and something that had always fascinated Matt.

 

But Matt wasn’t sure he was quite aiming at the right target this time.

 

“I’m not saying he’s not a criminal,” he started.  “But he doesn’t seem the type for human trafficking.  Nothing I could find suggested anything like that.”

 

Frank’s jaw tightened.

 

“There’s no ‘type’, Red.  There’s just scum that do it, then the rest of us.”

 

“It’s not that simple, Frank.  _People_ aren’t that simple.”

 

Frank gave a scoff of disgust, turning away for a moment and waving the gun in his hand dismissively.

 

“Back again with the bullshit excuses,” he grunted.  “And here I thought you’d changed your mind about what these pieces of garbage deserve.  Guess losing the person you love wasn’t quite enough incentive for you like I thought.”

 

Matt had the front of Frank’s jacket in his fists before he even really realized what he was doing.  The reference to Elektra was enough to fill him with white-hot rage, the nose of his mask almost touching Frank’s face as he growled at him.

 

“You don’t get to talk about her.  At _all_.”

 

Frank smirked, not even bothering to fight him off.

 

“Looks like you’re a lot closer to being like me than you think,” he said.

 

Matt loosened his grip and withdrew from Frank’s face, but didn’t let go completely.

 

“And yet I’m still not there,” he replied.  “Like you said, grief doesn’t work the same for everybody.  It hasn’t turned me into a killer, as much as you would like it to.  I still think people, even ‘pieces of garbage’ like this, deserve a chance.”

 

At the reference to Grant, Frank’s face turned to the floor.  And then he was suddenly flicking his head back and forth, searching.  He shoved Matt off.

 

“Where the hell is he?” he snapped.  “Where did that shitbag go?”

 

During their argument, Grant had evidently taken the opportunity to escape, at least from their immediate presence.  Matt dropped his head, listening for his rapid heartbeat and labored breathing, as well as trying to pick up the trail of adrenaline he’d left in his wake.  Frank was already marching the length of the kitchen, his mouth turned into a sneer and gun at the ready.

 

Matt was about to let him know Grant had dragged himself to some kind of storage room just to the left of them, when he heard the distinctive clack of a clip being loaded.

 

It wasn’t a storage room at all – it was an armory.

 

“Frank, get in cover!” Matt yelled, throwing himself behind the marble of the kitchen counter.  “He’s armed!”

 

Frank managed to hit the deck just in time, as Grant leaned around the doorway to deliver a haphazard hail of bullets across the kitchen.  He was using some kind of submachine gun – Matt wasn’t sure exactly what, though it was obvious Grant didn’t really have any idea how to use it.  That was an advantage, and one he knew Frank would be quick to utilize.

 

As soon as Grant had delivered that one messy round of fire, he hid back in his weapons room again.  Matt could sense him searching for more clips and anything else of use on the shelves.  He’d no doubt bought himself an arsenal with his ill-gotten gains, realizing the business he conducted these days might bring enemies to his door.  He wasn’t wrong.  Unfortunately for Grant, even the most well-armed and well-trained thugs were of no use against someone like Frank Castle.  It had been a big mistake to get himself on the Punisher’s radar.

 

Even now, Frank was crawling across the kitchen floor toward Grant’s position, gun in his hand and anger burning under his skin.

 

“You can’t hide from me, you cowardly piece of shit!” Frank bellowed.

 

He rolled back behind one side of the kitchen counter as Grant emerged from around the corner to fire again, this time actually pausing to see if he could hit anything.  He didn’t, but from his brief glances and the verbal taunting, he seemed to get a pretty good idea of where Frank was.

 

But Frank wasn’t deterred.  He was back on his feet now, keeping low, but making a break for the weapons room.  Grant had turned back to the shelves, and was frantically pawing through clips and handguns.

 

Matt’s mouth turned dry and heartrate surged as he sensed Grant’s hands come to close over a grenade.  He scrambled out from the other end of the bench, shouting.

 

“Get the hell back, Frank – he’s got explosives!”

 

Frank had already brought his gun up to nail Grant if he appeared at the doorway again, but turned his head at Matt’s warning, brow drawn in confusion.

 

“What?”

 

It was at that moment Grant chose to emerge.

 

Frank went to take the shot but wasn’t fast enough, Grant throwing the grenade and managing to turn enough to only catch a bullet in the shoulder.  At the same time, Matt was already across the top of kitchen counter, taking several large leaps and turning a somersault off the other end to bat the grenade away.  It skittered back in the direction of Grant, and Matt used his remaining momentum to throw Frank to the ground, covering him with his own body.

 

 Because despite hitting it away, Matt knew they were still too close.

 

At the last moment, he sensed the burn of the interior explosive as it finally caught alight, followed by a violent ripple of air pressure upon detonation.  Then Matt was drowning in the agony of overwhelming sound and concussive force, and everything went black.


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Matt didn’t remember much of what happened after.  There were flashes of being dragged somewhere in dust and debris, the smell of Frank’s leather jacket, a vehicle of some kind.  He could feel injuries – bleeding from small cuts in his back, possible cracked ribs again, and a more severe laceration to his thigh.  He figured he must have lost a lot of blood from that wound, because following that was only the blank void of unconsciousness.

 

When he awoke again, everything was fuzzy.  It was like being wrapped in a blanket of cotton wool, which, for someone used to sensing everything, was incredibly unsettling.

 

After a moment, he realized he could detect some kind of opiate in his bloodstream, and he wondered if he was in a hospital.  But as he concentrated, he couldn’t feel any cannulas in his arm nor smell the harsh chemicals usual in a sterile environment; there was no hum of machines to monitor him, and the sheets under him weren’t bleached to within an inch of their life.  In fact, they had been distinctly slept in, by someone other than him, and after a few more seconds the identity resolved itself in his head.

 

“ _Frank_.”

 

His throat felt like sandpaper, and the voice that emerged from it was reflective of its haggard state.  Matt tried to open his eyes and get a better fix on his surroundings, but his eyelids felt weighed down and what little sensory perception he did have was swimming.  His brain felt equally loopy, and he hoped he really was in Frank’s residence, because he was dangerously vulnerable right now.

 

Matt tried to move, but gasped as pain shot down his back, forcing him to still again.  It must be worse than he imagined if he could feel that even with drugs running through him.

 

“Don’t do that.  I’m not finished patching you up.”

 

Matt’s usual sensory capacity was too sloppy to use in combination to locate Frank in the room, so he focused on one thing at a time.  The sound of his voice put him somewhere within a meter or so of the bed, but it was the metallic taste of his wounds that narrowed it down to the left-hand side.  The steady beat of his heart showed he was nowhere near as injured as Matt, and the slide of needle and thread through skin was evidence that Frank wasn’t intending on seeing anyone about it either.

 

It also suggested he’d been sitting there for some time.

 

“How bad is it?” Matt managed to get out.

 

His head pounded as he tried to speak as loud as possible.  He cringed, which only served to tense his back and send another wave of pain through him.

 

“I’ve seen worse.”

 

“That bad, huh?”

 

“The shrapnel in your back was the main problem.  It took me nearly an hour to pull that shit out, and I’m not even sure I got it all.  Needed the morphine to keep you under, but that didn’t work out so well either.  You lost a lot more blood than I thought before I could get to the wound in your leg.  Nearly OD’d you.”

 

Matt’s smile was slack on his mouth.

 

“Did you have to resuscitate me?”

 

“Couple times.”

 

“I’m surprised you could bring yourself to do it.”

 

“Not one of my favorite life experiences, believe me,” Frank said.  “But whatever else I am, I sure as hell will save the life of a man who just saved mine.”

 

Matt nodded, trying to push his eyelids open again.  The morphine would wear off eventually, but at the moment it was still making everything difficult.

 

“So you said you weren’t finished patching me up.  What else is there?”

 

“The wound in your leg will need re-stitching.  I had to work quickly to get it closed any way I could, but it was a shit job,” Frank told him.  “I think three of your ribs are broken on the right side; you seem to be breathing okay so I guess they didn’t puncture your lung.  The rest is all cuts and bruises.  Though you might find some other injuries yourself now you’re awake.  Particularly anything beneath the underwear.  I might save your life, but I ain’t _that_ nice.”

 

Matt’s mood was still slippery under the influence of the drugs, and he found himself unwisely veering to the edge of flirtation.

 

“I did notice you’d undressed me,” he said.  “Trying to take advantage in my weakened state, I suppose.”

 

And though he couldn’t be sure of anything right now, Matt thought he detected a scattering of heat bloom faintly across Frank’s cheeks.

 

“Don’t know what kind of people you’re used to hanging out with, but I got no tolerance for those who would prey on the injured to get their rocks off.  That’s some disrespectful bullshit.”

 

“It was a joke,” Matt replied, belatedly realizing how his words sounded.  “A bad one, I’ll admit.  I didn’t figure you for that kind of man.  Or the other kind, as well.”

 

He wondered if Frank knew what he was implying.  And if he had been in a healthier state, if Frank would have hit him for it.  Soldiers had a reputation for holding onto rigidly stereotypical views, but he wasn’t sure how far that went with Frank.

 

“You need to stop figuring me for anything, Red.  Like I said before, you don’t know me.”

 

“Not for lack of trying – you won’t let me,” he pointed out.

 

Matt normally wouldn’t have shown his hand so freely.  He was certain he could feel Frank watching him, curious, if still reticent.

 

“And you think I should, huh?” Frank asked.

 

Matt’s shoulders came up in a lazy shrug.

 

“I don’t know.  You told me about your family, about what happened to them, to you; I saw all the destruction you rained down on this city because of it.  And even if it was only a small part, even if you didn’t want me to, I did see something of you in that.  I’m sure after everything, you’ve seen something of me too.  I’m not saying there’s a connection, or that there should be.  I’m just saying…”  He trailed off, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to collect his runaway thoughts.  “I’m just saying, I don’t know.”

 

He wasn’t sure how long he shut his eyes for, but then Frank was right next to him.  His gaze seemed to be searching Matt’s face, down his neck and over his chest, before his fingers came up to check the pulse in his wrist.

 

“You’re not looking so good, Red,” Frank said.

 

“I’m a little dizzy,” he admitted.

 

He was more than a little, but didn’t want to disclose that.

 

“What’s your blood type?”

 

“What?”

 

Matt felt Frank’s hand grab his jaw, turning it toward him.

 

“Your blood type – you need to tell me, Red.”

 

“Uh…  A positive.”

 

“Then I guess it continues to be your lucky day.”

 

Matt tried to ask what exactly he was talking about, but suddenly his senses grew dim and the words wouldn’t come.  He vaguely thought he heard Frank tell him there were no guarantees, and there was a feeling of something going into his arm.  Then everything went black once more.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Matt couldn’t be sure how long he was out.

 

He hadn’t even been sure the first time, though from the freshness of his injuries and the warmth he could remember from the window, it was only a few hours after the blast then. Now, there was a coolness outside, indicating nightfall. Matt couldn’t sense any buzz of overhead lights, an angle-head torch in one corner presumably providing the only illumination in the room.

 

Frank was still beside the bed, reclined in a folding chair.  His eyelids were low, but Matt could tell from his breathing that he wasn’t asleep.

 

“You’re a tough son of a bitch, I’ll give you that,” Frank murmured.

 

Matt swallowed a few times, and gratefully accepted the cup of water Frank pressed to his lips, before he replied.

 

“If it’s any consolation, I feel like death.  Though I suppose I already did that too.”

 

He could sense the ghost of a smile on Frank’s lips.

 

“You’ll be glad to know there wasn’t a repeat of that.  I thought I might be in for it again if you rejected the transfusion, but so far, so good.”

 

At this, Matt became aware of the taped cotton wool at the crook of his elbow, and also at Frank’s.  It ached like hell, though no more really than the rest of him.

 

“You know how to perform a transfusion?” Matt asked, surprised.

 

“Roughly.  For use in the field, until the soldier can get to a real medic,” Frank explained.  “Which you might want to do at some point, for all of your injuries – I’m no doctor.”

 

“I used to have someone – who would treat me, not tell anyone about it.  But she, uh… we parted ways, and I’m currently doctor-less.  It’s only home patch-up jobs now.”

 

“Then I guess you gotta stay here until we’re sure you won’t kick it.”

 

Matt half-smiled, glad to be able to open his eyes properly now the morphine was gone from his system.

 

“I’ll be fine,” he replied.  “Give me until tomorrow and I’ll be out of your hair.”

 

“No.  No way, Red.  I said you were tough, but only because you didn’t die today.  You still need time to rest, to heal – you can’t walk off these injuries, not this time.”

 

“I’ve had broken ribs before, and bad cuts, other wounds.  It’s no big deal.”

 

“You had this amount of shrapnel before?” Frank asked.  “Because that degree of spray across your skin is gonna need cleaning, re-dressing every day to make sure it doesn’t get infected.  You just said you don’t have anyone to patch you up – how are you going to get all that done to your own back?”

 

“I will figure something out.”

 

“Don’t be an idiot,” Frank said.  “You can’t even stand.  There’s no way you’ll leave here tomorrow without ending up in a hospital.  Or dead in an alley somewhere.”

 

“Well, it will be my problem to deal with then.  It’s not your concern.”

 

“I don’t leave my men to die,” Frank told him.  “That’s not who I am, you know that.”

 

“Except I’m not one of your men, Frank.”

 

“Like hell you aren’t.”

 

They both went very still at this, the words heavy in the air.

 

Matt knew Frank had some strange type of honor code, which extended to returning the favor of saving his life.  But he never would have assumed they were real allies of any kind, especially not to the degree of companionship seen in a military team, as Frank seemed to be implying.

 

Frank's eyes dropped to look at his hands now, a furrow across his brow and the heartbeat in his chest slightly agitated.  Matt could sense the faint aura of anxiety about him, and he wondered exactly how all of this, including him, was a source of worry for the man.

 

“Just stay here, okay?” Frank continued.  “You got nowhere to be, no-one to get back to.  Get yourself better, and then go home.”

 

Matt wasn’t sure if this signaled a new-found loneliness in Frank, that he didn’t want be by himself right now, or if it was some sort of penance he was embarking on.  Even with all of Matt’s extra senses, and even if they’d been at full strength, Frank was hard to read.  It was unlikely he’d be able to unravel his motives anytime soon, considering the state he was in, so Matt decided not to press the issue for now.

 

“I suppose you do have too much invested in me,” he said lightly.  “I shouldn’t go undoing all your hard work just yet.”

 

This drew a smile from Frank, and the tension in his shoulders slackened.

 

“Exactly.  Not much point in pumping all that blood of mine into your veins if you’re just going to go and leak it all out again.”

 

Mention of the transfusion brought Matt’s focus back to the nick in his arm, and the feel of something foreign rushing through him.  It wasn’t that he could single out Frank’s blood specifically, because the pump and cycle of it through his heart rendered it a muddle with his own, but it still provoked an unfamiliar sensation in his body.  It created a presence, a reminder, of the man sitting next to him – a man who was, by his own insistence, almost a stranger to him.

 

Matt would have expected himself to balk at such an infringement, his sensitivity being what it was, but the instinct wasn’t there this time.  Whether it was his weakened state, or just relief at being kept alive, Matt found he had no objections to the lingering suggestion of Frank Castle under his skin.

 

He wondered if Frank realized the intimacy of the procedure on someone with Matt’s abilities, or if he was too busy thinking about getting the job done.  With a soldier like Frank, it was probably the latter.

 

“Thank you for that, by the way,” Matt said.  “Another on the list of favors you’ve done for me today, along with patching and cleaning me up.”

 

As he said the words, it occurred to him that the underwear Frank had made a point of saying he’d left on earlier while tending to his wounds was now gone.  Matt was stark naked under the blankets, the worn cotton of Frank’s sheets sitting flush against his bare ass.

 

He started.

 

“But I don’t seem to be wearing anything anymore,” Matt pointed out.  “What happened?”

 

Frank shifted, his face turning away.

 

“You were in a bad way, even after I got done with the transfusion, out for most of the day.  I couldn’t wake you to get you to the bathroom.”

 

Matt closed his eyes, lifting a hand to his face and cringing.

 

“ _Shit_.”

 

“Fortunately, not that.  You pissed yourself, no big deal.  I’ve stripped soldiers whose entire fatigues were a nightmare of shit, blood, urine and vomit.  This is nothing,” Frank said.  “Your underwear is drying outside.  Should be alright by the morning.”

 

Matt took a slow, pained breath, letting the full extent of Frank’s assistance to him over the last day sink in.

 

He hadn’t had to do any of it, not really.  He could’ve found out about Claire and handed him over; despite what Matt had said, she would’ve taken him in and saved his life.  But instead Frank had brought him here, to his own safe house, and decided to help Matt all on his own.  Whatever ugly, difficult things were required, Frank had done them.

 

“Well, I’m in your debt again,” Matt said.  “I’ll have to find a way to make it up to you once I’m back on my feet.”

 

“You don’t have to do nothing, Red.”

 

“I know.  But I want to.”

 

Even though Matt couldn’t rely on his abilities to be entirely accurate right now, he was sure he felt a warmth of approval bloom in Frank’s chest.  He would’ve grinned, except for the bruise that had now swelled up his cheek on the left-hand side.

 

“Whatever you say.”

 

Frank stood from his chair and rounded the bed, rolling his shoulders as he crossed the room.  Matt could feel the stretch of his muscles, stiff from overuse and lack of rest, though none of it seemed to bother him at all.

 

The soldier opened a small cupboard on the opposite wall, the smell of cereals and long-life foods drifting into Matt’s awareness.

 

“Think you can eat?” Frank asked.

 

“Maybe,” Matt replied, swallowing down the thickness in his throat again.

 

He wasn’t hungry, but he felt so weak that it was probably a good idea.

 

“Or I got Gatorade.  Might taste like candy-flavored shit in a bottle, but could be what you need right now.”

 

“Okay.  Let’s start with the drink, and I’ll see if I can work my way up to solids.”

 

Frank gave a nod and pulled two bottles from the shelf, bringing them over to Matt.  Then he headed back to the cupboard and took out the box of oats.  Matt rested his open bottle of Gatorade in one hand and sighed, closing his eyes.

 

*

 

Frank being occupied with food preparation gave Matt a chance to properly take in his surroundings.

 

They were in a small, wooden building in the middle of a thickly-forested area, toward the top of a slope, and a mile or so from real roads of any kind.  The house was one of those you put together from a kit, which presumably had been done by Frank himself at some point, and though it was no architectural marvel, it was a surprisingly decent dwelling.

 

The living area was all-purpose; along with the bed Matt was recovering in, there was a sleeping cot on the floor that smelled strongly of Frank, and a small pine dining table set against one wall.  Along the other was a bench with basic kitchen facilities, where Frank was putting together the meal.  There was another of the fold-out chairs he had been sitting in off to one side of the room, as well as the black bag of equipment he’d had with him when Matt first saw him at Grant’s condo.  The shower and toilet were walled-off in the north-east corner of the main room, and connected to the living area by a wooden sliding cavity-door.  The dog was tied up out back, currently snoozing in a plastic kennel.

 

Behind the house, Matt detected another building, this one a lot smaller, older and purely utilitarian.  At first appearances, it seemed like a normal shed, filled with tools and various outdoor chemicals; but behind the false back wall was a cache of firearms, explosives and a variety of other weapons.  Matt had already sensed several boxes of ammunition in the cupboards and roof cavity of the house, as well as right beneath him under the bed, but the main repository was here – cases and cases, evidently stockpiled by Frank over the last six months.

 

There was also the presence of old blood stains in the shed, though they were clean enough now to not be visible by eye.  From the quantity and pattern, it was clear someone had been killed in there in the not-too-distant past.  Matt had no doubt that was Frank’s doing, but even a wider sweep of the forest showed no trace of a body.

 

Whoever it had been, Frank was thorough in wiping them from existence in this place.

 

It didn’t take long before the food was ready, and Frank was bringing over a small bowl of lukewarm porridge.  The smell made Matt feel slightly nauseous, but he pushed it aside, knowing it was better to try and get something in his stomach.

 

But when he reached for it, he found his needle-pricked arm had a greater level of weakness and aching than he expected, and couldn’t quite maneuver the spoon and dish from Frank’s hands.  Even trying to sit up to get a better angle sent a fresh surge of pain through his back and ribs, and though he tried to steady the defensive reaction of his body, he still found himself with a spinning head and gasping breaths.

 

Frank was at his side once more, a hand wrapped around his better arm and shoulder, pushing him up into sitting position.

 

“Easy there, Red.”

 

Frank was close enough that Matt could smell the days-old grime over his skin, along with the bloody tang of dried wounds and musky body odor under his armpits.  It was normally disgusting, taking in these sorts of indicators, particularly at close range, but right now Matt was unbothered by it.  He didn’t know whether that was because he was too distracted by his lingering pain, or because it was both a usual and expected state for someone like Frank.

 

Matt found his own hand curled into the fabric of Frank’s shirt, though he didn’t remember reaching for it.  Clearly the pain of his injuries was wiping away his coherence and judgement at times, and he was starting to think there was very little vulnerability left in him that Frank was yet to see.

 

Well, until he let go of Frank’s shirt, and attempted to take the porridge from him again.  Once more, he struggled and fumbled, almost overturning the bowl before Frank took it back and sat down in the seat beside him.

 

“You want to fight with this for the next half hour, and probably make a mess?” Frank asked.  “Or should I just do it?”

 

Matt sighed, pressing his lips together for a moment.

 

“God, this is so humiliating.”

 

“Says the man who runs around the city in pajamas.”

 

Matt laughed, which quickly turned into a cough, his chest burning in agony once again.

 

Frank’s hand gripped his shoulder, steadying him.  He focused on it, bringing his breathing back under control.  There was blood in his mouth, but it was only from the injuries to his face, not from his lungs.  That was slightly comforting.

 

“Fair point,” Matt said.  “And if you’re offering, I may as well take you up on it.”

 

Frank tilted the bowl and scraped some of the porridge onto the spoon.

 

“It’s been a while since I helped someone eat.  Though it was just kids, then.”

 

He was smiling, though Matt could hear the sadness in his voice.  The fact that he was willing to make reference to his children, no matter how vague, was surprising.

 

Matt opened his mouth and allowed Frank to guide the spoon into it.  He took some of the porridge and chewed slowly, before swallowing it down with difficulty.

 

“Can’t say in my current state whether I’ll be less hassle to you than kids would be, but I’ll try.”

 

“As long as you don’t deliberately throw mashed carrot in my face, we’ll be fine.”

 

“No guarantees,” Matt smiled.


	5. Chapter 5

 

 

The next few days passed with a similar level of assistance required from Frank.

 

Since he could hardly stand, Frank had to practically drag Matt to the bathroom and set him down on the seat to use the toilet, even just to piss.  This also involved Matt having to call out when he was done, much like a three-year-old, though thankfully he had enough strength to wipe his ass and flush the toilet himself.

 

Showering wasn’t much better.  Frank found a stool in the shed that Matt could sit on, but the shiny plastic of the seat and the slippery nature of the shower meant it wasn’t a good idea to leave him alone in there.  Frank spent his time leant against the wall, next to the slightly-open door, keeping a watchful eye in case Matt keeled over while washing at any point.

 

He was gracious enough to keep the lights effectively off during any of Matt’s use of the bathroom, and whenever he was helping him dress or undress.  Frank kept the shutters on the window in there permanently closed too.  There wasn’t much dignity in Matt needing this level of help to complete everyday tasks, but he was grateful for Frank affording him some anyway.

 

Frank was also completely professional in his approach to tending Matt’s wounds.  He cleaned the small shrapnel cuts one by one every day, with a bowl of salted hot water and strips of clean fabric, a steady, military-style precision to his movements.  Then he would apply betadine and dress them anew with large squares of gauze and medical tape.  The bigger gashes he would similarly disinfect, and check the stitches, re-sewing any that had been ripped or come loose.  Frank used his fingertips to inspect any swelling and bruises, particularly those over the cracked ribs, despite Matt’s insistence that he could monitor those himself.

 

“You already tried to fool me into thinking you can take care of yourself when it’s obvious you can’t,” Frank said.  “So I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth about how hurt you are.  I’m going to keep checking you until I’m sure.”

 

There wasn’t much to argue against in that, and besides, Matt just didn’t have the strength yet, so he let Frank continue inspections as he see fit.

 

It also may have helped that about a week into Frank’s attentive work on his recovery, Matt realized he quite liked the feel of Frank’s hands on his skin.

 

It could be that he was touch-starved; he’d been in too much grief over Elektra and his life in too much disarray to contemplate bringing someone to his bed anytime in the last six months.  Perhaps just having that physical contact now, no matter who it was, was enough to spark a heat in him, and make him want more of the same.

 

But it didn’t feel that simple.

 

He liked the shape of Frank’s hands, the calloused texture of his fingertips, the prominence of the veins below his skin.  He liked the way his arm muscles moved and stretched when he reached over to the far wounds on Matt’s back, similarly how they bulged when helping him up in bed.  He liked how Frank smelled when he was freshly showered, and also when he was slick with sweat from physical exertion.

 

So perhaps it was a little of being touch-starved.  But it was mostly just the fact of it being Frank.

 

Matt was moderately surprised at his own interest, partly because it wasn’t something he’d felt when he’d first met Frank.  He supposed he’d been too busy trying to stop his killing spree, not to mention everything that had followed, to really even consider attraction to the man.  But now, spending all this time with him, alone, being cared for, had shifted his perspective.

 

He would have to wait and see where it was going to lead.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

 

By the beginning of the second week, Matt had regained enough strength to do a large number of things himself.  He still needed Frank’s help to treat the cuts on his back, and couldn’t stay standing for long periods of time, but everything else was manageable.  He washed and dressed himself without too much grief, and made his own meals or food to share where possible.

 

Satisfied that Matt could survive unattended now, Frank left the cabin for longer stints, hours at a time, and at all times of the day and night.  He came back smelling of shotgun powder and fresh blood, the latter of which was usually not his own.  Matt assumed he was out dispensing his own brand of retributive justice again, though who he was chasing down other than maybe Grant’s associates, Matt had no idea.

 

He wanted to ask what Frank was doing, why he was getting himself into another mess when, from what he could gather, nothing the soldier had done in the last few months had anything to do with the death of his family.  It seemed Frank was simply taking on anyone he thought deserved punishing, regardless of whether it was linked to organized crime and cover-up by the authorities.

 

But Matt had no right to judge Frank this way, considering his own actions in recent times.  He too was much more scattershot in his approach to crime now, and there had been many days where he knew he was beating a perp simply because he liked the feel of it under his fists.  So he stayed silent, let Frank come and go without questioning his motives, and instead just let things sit unsaid.

 

Even though they didn’t speak about Frank’s vengeful tendencies, they did begin to talk about many other things.  At first, it was Matt just making idle chatter, bored as he was being cooped up in a single room for many hours of the day.  Frank seemed to endure this with great patience, not necessarily interested in anything Matt was saying, but not ignoring or reprimanding him for it either.  He just listened, and that was enough.

 

And then, when Matt started to unload some of his more personal struggles over the next few days – what had happened with Foggy, with Karen, with Elektra – Frank suddenly paid attention.  He wasn’t the world’s best conversationalist, but his acknowledgement of Matt’s words went from grunts and nods, to agreement and prodding with questions.  Matt just let it out, feeling the weight he had been carrying around for months and months lift from his chest.  He didn’t care how it sounded, how hypocritical and awful he painted himself to be; it was the truth, and that was what he needed.

 

There were a few times where he thought he might fall apart, recalling those things he’d done, said to the people he loved.  Even with tears in his eyes and a wobble in his voice, he’d managed to keep his composure, pushing through all the details to get to the end.

 

Except when he finally got around to Elektra.  The last night he’d spent with her on that rooftop, the one Frank had been there for.  When Matt tried to recount it, describe how they’d got to that point, all the tight control of his emotions seemed to unravel.

 

He sat down on the bed when his legs threatened to give out from under him, his breaths gasping into sobs in his chest and head falling into his hands.  He tried, he _tried_ to pull it all back in, not weep and sniff and shake in front of a man like Frank, but it was to no avail.  Even with his eyes closed, the tears slipped down his cheeks and fell onto the floor in a steady drip.

 

Matt twice attempted to continue the story, to tell of all the brave and insane things Elektra had done, but he couldn’t get it out.  His voice finally gave in, ragged and weary, and he bowed his head again, elbows on his knees and palm against his forehead.

 

After what seemed like an age, but was probably only a minute or so, he felt the bed dip beside him.

 

“I couldn’t do it either,” Frank said.

 

Matt wanted to ask what but he was still concentrating on trying to calm his breathing.

 

“I couldn’t protect the people I loved,” Frank went on.

 

His shoulder and thigh were pressed alongside Matt’s, and his heartbeat was a steady thump in the rushing of Matt’s ears.

 

“To know you have this one thing to do, just one simple thing.  Easy, right?  You’ve protected other people, the ones that don’t matter as much, for so long, that it shouldn’t be hard,” Frank said.  “But somehow you screw it up.  You fail at that one simple thing when it matters the most.  And then nothing seems to mean anything anymore, there’s no point to any of it.  To living, breathing, getting out of bed.  Every day is worthless, every single minute of every God damn hour is absolutely worthless.  And you think to yourself – how am I still here?  How is it that I, this useless sack of shit, survived? When these other, more important, more worthy human beings didn’t.  How does that make any sense?”

 

As Matt listened to him talk, he could feel the tightness in Frank’s chest, the barely contained grief that still lingered inside this man.

 

“Well, let me tell you a secret, Red – it doesn’t.  None of the fucked up things people choose to do that end up hurting and killing the innocent, make any sense.  They’re just things that happen – there’s no great plan here.”  Before Matt could protest, Frank went on.  “You know I’m a believer.   But it’s been clear to me for a while now that God just ain’t on my side.  I’m not even sure he can see through the filth that covers this city to be on _anyone’s_ side.  So these things happen.  And we learn to live with them, or we end it.  That’s all there is.”

 

“I’m Catholic,” Matt reminded him.   “Suicide isn’t really an option for me.”

 

Frank’s smile was faint, and he shook his head.

 

“I wasn’t suggesting that,” he said.  “Because you’ve already made your choice – to live with it.  Now it’s about finding a way to deal with all the shit.”

 

Matt tipped his head.

 

“If you mean killing people, like you did, I think we’ve established that’s not an option for me either.”  He shook his head.  “Not that I haven’t wanted to – I have – I _still_ want to.  Whenever I think about everything The Hand did, what they tried to make her, and their attack on me that lead to her death… those times, I wish it’d been me, not you, that killed them,” he admitted.  “That instead of a bullet to the head, it had been my hands snapping their necks, my garrote slicing their throats.  I want their blood spilling on the floor as payment for taking her away from me.”

 

Matt’s eyebrows went up when he felt Frank’s hand settle on the back of his neck.

 

“But that ain’t you, Red.”

 

Frank’s hand was still and warm, his fingers resting over the curve of Matt’s vertebrae and thumb sitting just below his right ear.  It spoke of all the care and affection Frank had trapped inside his broken heart, that he just didn’t know how to let out anymore.  Matt had always felt it – hell, it was the reason for Frank’s ferocity, the driver of his absolute violence.  People said Frank was heartless, that he didn’t feel anything killing all those people, but the opposite was actually true.

 

Frank felt _everything_.

 

“And once I cross over to your side of the line, I can’t come back,” Matt said.

 

He echoed the words Frank had said to him that night on the boat, when he had been at the end of his tether and almost willing to assist Frank in murder.

 

“No, you can’t.  And believe me, you don’t want to be on this side,” Frank told him.  “Nothing but darkness and pain here.”

 

Matt turned his head to face Frank now, still leant over but resting his cheek on one hand.

 

“Nothing?”

 

Frank didn’t move his hand, but Matt felt his heartbeat stutter as he looked down at the other man.

 

“No.  Ain’t got room for anything else.”

 

Matt smiled.

 

“I don’t believe that,” he said.  “If there’s anything I know about you, it’s that there’s much more going on inside than you let on.  More than just the hurt and violence.”

 

“Think you know me now, huh, Red?”

 

Frank went to slip his hand from its position, but Matt caught it at his shoulder as he sat up, covering it with his own.  Frank’s heartbeat raced up to a thunder, and Matt could feel how heavy his breaths were against his face, even without his heightened senses.

 

“I think you tell yourself that’s all there is – just the darkness.  Because it makes it easier to keep going, to keep doing what you do.  Any kind of concern, care for other people is a distraction that will interfere with your mission.  But even your own code defies that; you make sure it’s only your target that gets killed, no-one else.  Not to mention all the times you saved Karen, saved me, when you didn’t have to,” Matt said.  “You act like your heart is too small, too sick, to fit anything except the rage.  But nothing could be further from the truth, Frank.  Your heart is so big and so full, it’s bursting.”

 

Frank swallowed, his eyes seeming to track back and forth over Matt’s face.

 

“Even if it was, what good is that?” he asked.  “It might’ve saved a few people, but in the end, it’s of no use.  Not anymore.”

 

When Matt let his fingertips stroke the tops of Frank’s knuckles, the soldier’s heart beat even faster, and his pupils blew wide.

 

“It’s of use to me.”

 

There was a desperate ache in Frank’s body, a longing that suggested he was even more touch-starved than Matt was, but it was shot through with uncertainty.  The nervousness was coming off him in waves, and Matt knew he had to curb any further advances on his part.  He wouldn’t take advantage of Frank’s vulnerability like this; he wasn’t even sure Frank had any interest in men, let alone _him_ , and pushing him into something without knowing would be a huge mistake.

 

Frank was still watching him, torn, taking a breath like he wanted to say something, but also tense in his muscles, ready to act.  In the end, he spoke.

 

“For what?”

 

“For whatever you can manage,” Matt said.  “Friendship, at least.”

 

Frank let out one of his signature grunts of acknowledgement, and his fingers curled into Matt’s shoulder a little more, his brow furrowing.

 

“And at most?” he asked.

 

Matt waited a beat before replying.

 

“It’s up to you.”

 

He wasn’t going to throw the possibility of any sort of physical relationship out there, partly still because of Frank’s apprehension, but also because he couldn’t be certain this wasn’t also a test of _him_.

 

Frank was good at reading people, and it was likely he had picked up on Matt’s physical interest in the last couple of weeks.  Perhaps he thought desire somehow compromised Matt’s ability to be trusted, and was trying to expose his real motivations.  And that would have been a fair assessment, had it been some insignificant person he’d picked up at a bar or in a diner.  But his hunger for Frank was born of something deeper, something Matt hadn’t even defined himself yet; he understood Frank’s suspicion, but it wasn’t warranted.

 

Nevertheless, Matt didn’t want to give the impression that all of this was some shallow ploy for sex.  He would let Frank decide what he wanted to make of their interaction.

 

“Okay.  I’ll think about it,” Frank said.

 

He slid his hand off Matt’s shoulder now and stood up.  He had that twitch in his fingers that Matt had come to recognize as Frank trying to keep hold of his emotions, though it was unlikely he would speak of them now.  Instead, he changed the subject.

 

“In the meantime, supplies up here are getting low,” he went on.  “I’ll head out, grab a few things.  Pick up some clothes that actually fit you.”

 

Up until this point, Matt had been wearing Frank’s old t-shirts and sweatpants.

 

“Sure.”

 

“Maybe get you some more tissues for when you start bawling again.”

 

There was a smile in Frank’s voice, and despite the dig, Matt knew he didn’t mean anything by it.

 

“Also never know when you might break down crying about your dog,” Matt countered with a grin.

 

Frank huffed a laugh.

 

“You got me there.  That animal is more loyal and trustworthy than any damn human being around.”

 

“Easier to love as well, I imagine.”

 

Frank’s smile turned wry.

 

“That too.”

 

With saying anything further, he grabbed a bag and headed out the door.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

 

Despite all the time they’d spent together over the last fortnight, and Frank’s uncanny ability to see into people, it occurred to Matt that Frank didn’t really understand everything he could do.  Certainly, Matt had recounted his childhood accident, and how he hadn’t always been blind, but hadn’t really thought about explaining the depth of his gifts.

 

He supposed it was because everyone else he’d ever revealed his secret to had almost immediately pressed him for details; because Frank hadn’t, he assumed he’d already worked it out.  So he was mildly surprised when Frank queried him one morning.

 

They were going through the daily routine of attending to Matt’s back injuries – Matt sat on the edge of the bed with his shirt off, Frank behind him with betadine and swabs.  Many of the smaller wounds were healed now, but there were several that were taking longer, in particular those that had required re-opening and cleaning; it turned out Frank had been right about not getting all the shrapnel the first time around.  The soldier checked these specifically now, making sure there was no serious infection.

 

Matt twitched and made a small noise in his throat as Frank pressed down to clean one of the bigger wounds.

 

“Don’t you get tired of it?” Frank asked.

 

“Of getting injured?  Yeah, it’s not my favorite pastime.”

 

“Not the injury.  I mean, being able to feel everything.  With your extra senses and all that shit.”

 

It was then Matt realised Frank wasn’t quite clear on how it all worked.

 

“Fortunately, I don’t feel _everything_.  At least, not unless I want to, if I concentrate on it.”

 

“Huh.”

 

Matt elaborated.

 

“My body seems to have a reflex where it blocks out any extra pain that could be experienced because of my heightened senses.  Everything else I’ve basically learned to filter out over time.”

 

Frank threw the bloodied piece of cloth he’d been using into the empty ammo case with the others, picking up fresh gauze.

 

“But just the other night you told me how you could detect the stink of that rotten deer from inside the house.  Touch works differently to that then?”

 

“In a way.  I don’t think my sensitivity varies between senses necessarily, it’s just that they work at different scales.  Things I hear and smell can range from right next to me, to across the room, to down the block; touch has to be direct in virtually every case,” Matt explained.  “Also, the variety of input is greater for the others – my skin doesn’t feel much except the scratch of fabric for a lot of the day.”

 

“And me poking around the cuts on your back.”

 

Matt smiled.

 

“That too,” he replied.  “But, it’s not so bad.  You actually have a gentle touch, for the most part.”

 

Despite the meticulousness of Frank’s work on his injuries, there had always been an undercurrent of care about it.  Matt wasn’t sure if that was because he was a father, or because of something else.

 

Frank gave a soft snort.

 

“Can’t say I’ve ever had anyone tell me that before.”

 

“Probably because you look like you’d knock them down for it.”

 

“Could be.”

 

“Or they just can’t feel your touch the way I can.”

 

Frank went quiet at this, evidently not missing the suggestion in Matt’s tone.  Matt could feel Frank’s heart starting to beat faster, and the temperature of his skin crept up a fraction, particularly around his throat and under his arms.  His hands remained steady at Matt’s back, but Matt could also tell Frank was now very aware of his motions, conscious of how and where his fingers came into contact with skin.  The fact that Frank wasn’t immediately retreating from it was encouraging.

 

Matt went on.

 

“It’s not something easy to explain, because of course everyone knows the sorts of experiences touch can invoke.  But for me, there’s another level to it, a greater depth.”

 

He could sense Frank’s hesitance before he spoke.

 

“You saying it feels better for you?”

 

“Something like that,” Matt said.  “More intimate, I guess you could say.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Frank’s response was predictably gruff, but the rhythm of his breathing gave away his curiosity.

 

“Does that bother you?” Matt asked after a moment.

 

“No.”

 

“That’s good to hear.  Wouldn’t want to frighten off my medic,” he smiled.

 

“There’s very little that frightens me, Red.  You should know that.”

 

Frank was almost done treating all the cuts, and picked up the last pieces of gauze and tape.

 

“I mean, when it comes to taking on armed men and impossible odds, yeah, there’s no question,” Matt said.  “But personal and emotional risks are a little different.  That, I couldn’t say about Frank Castle.”

 

“Those super-powers of yours don’t tell you?”

 

Matt half-smiled at Frank’s sardonic reply.

 

“Signals aren’t fact.  They help predict behavior, but that’s all.  I never know anything for sure, not completely.”

 

Matt turned on the bed to face Frank as the soldier finished up.  He was about to reach over to put his shirt back on when Frank took hold of his arm and began inspecting the bruises and scrapes that remained there.  It wasn’t necessary, not now Matt was reasonably well, yet Frank seemed ignore this fact.

 

His fingers took a slow, if somewhat inelegant path along the inside of Matt’s bicep, and then down across the muscles and tendons of his forearm.  It took all of Matt’s control to keep his breathing close to steady, but he could still feel his own temperature rising in response.

 

Frank didn’t look up at him as he continued on over to the other arm, and Matt had the distinct feeling it was a deliberate avoidance.  There was an unsettled rabbiting to his heartbeat now, and Matt could taste how dry his mouth was.

 

Frank might not be _scared_ when it came to personal interactions, but right now he was definitely nervous.

 

“Like the rest of us then – guessing and hoping for the best,” Frank said.

 

Matt wasn’t sure Frank was just talking about his powers now.

 

“I suppose so.”

 

Frank finally let go of Matt’s arm and lifted his head.  His eyes flicked back and forth, and his Adam’s apple bobbed, throat working through several swallows.  Matt could also sense the tension in his brow, furrowed down a little more than usual.  His fingers twitched upon his knee, and he just seemed to watch Matt for a few more moments.

 

Then he lifted his hand and Matt went still, barely breathing.  He waited for Frank to reach out to his chest – all the signals coming off him indicated that was his intended next move.

 

But then he stopped, standing up abruptly and clearing his throat.

 

“I should check the wound in your leg,” Frank said, rubbing at his nose.  “Take off your pants.”

 

Matt raised an eyebrow.

 

“I usually like to be bought a drink first, but okay.”

 

Frank grunted in disapproval.

 

“Anyone ever tell you you’re a real smartass?”

 

“It might’ve been mentioned.”

 

Matt stripped off his sweats, clad now only in his underpants, and shuffled further away onto the bed.  Very deliberately, he sat back on his elbows and let his knees fall apart.  Then he lifted his chin a little, lashes dipping low and mouth slightly open.

 

It wasn’t fair, he knew that.  And he could feel Frank’s body tense as he took in Matt’s form, the impropriety of it clearly not lost on the soldier.

 

But he didn’t say anything.  Despite the fact that Matt could tell his heart was pounding and the heat that had been across his skin was now pooling further south, Frank was outwardly impassive.

 

He inhaled a slow breath and then kneeled back down on the bed.  He took Matt by the ankle, pulling him closer, and settling between his legs.  He pushed Matt’s thigh back and began inspecting the injured area, face turned to the task at hand.  Once again, he wouldn’t look up at Matt.  But the interest Frank was trying so desperately to keep tamped down was being communicated through his hands.  They were checking the wound and its scabbing, yet moving at a pace and with an intimacy that did not match the clinical intent.  And with every passing second, Matt could feel the tension building in Frank, like a smouldering fire that threatened to spread suddenly out of control.

 

Matt was hardly unaffected either.  It was taking a great deal of regulated breathing and disciplining of thoughts to keep his body from reacting the way it wanted to with Frank’s hands on his thigh.  Especially when Frank ran a thumb slowly down newly healed skin at the side, all the way from one end of the laceration to the other.

 

Matt ended up letting out a sort of gasping sigh, head lolling back.

 

“ _God_ ,” he heard Frank mumble.

 

Matt lifted his head back up and found Frank's expression twisted with distress.  The soldier shook his head.

 

“This ain’t right,” Frank said, pulling his hands back and sitting up straight.

 

He was awash with shame and worry, when only moments before he'd been simmering with tension. 

 

Matt sat up off his elbows, confused.

 

“What?” he asked, breathless.  “What's not right?”

 

Frank swallowed, frowning and beginning to retreat off the bed.  Matt tried to grab at his wrist.

 

“Frank, wait–”

 

But Frank evaded his grip, shaking his head again.

 

“No.  I need to leave.  I can’t be doing this.”

 

Frank was off the bed now, and turned to grab the ammo case, evidently intending to end this and clean up.  But Matt was determined to find out why he was fleeing, when everything in his body had been broadcasting a genuine attraction.

 

Matt sat up now, following Frank as he retreated.  This time, he managed to get a hand around his wrist, causing the soldier to let out a grunt as he was forced to stop.

 

“What?  Doing what?” Matt asked.

 

Frank looked him in the face now.

 

“You know what.  Behaving this way with you.  I won’t do it.”

 

He pulled Matt’s hand from his wrist.  But Matt stood up, unwilling to let him escape so easily.

 

“Why?” he asked.

 

Frank ignored him and continued to dispose of the medical waste in the trash, setting the ammo case on the bench.  Matt pulled his slacks back on and rounded on him.

 

“I know what I felt from you, Frank, so why won’t you?” Matt pressed.  “Is it because I’m a man?”

 

Frank stopped at this, giving an affronted scoff. “You really think I give a shit about that?” he growled.

 

“You’re a soldier.  The army doesn’t exactly have great record of tolerance toward that stuff.”

 

“So, therefore I must be a God damn bigot, huh?  This coming from the Catholic.”

 

“Okay, fair enough.  So it’s not self-loathing.  Then what?” Matt asked.  “I know this is something you want, so what’s the problem?”

 

Frank shook his head.

 

“It’s not about what _I_ want, Red.”

 

Matt stopped, now even more confused.

 

“You don’t think it’s something that _I_ want?” he asked, incredulous tone to his voice.  Frank’s only reply was another grunt.  Matt went on.  “Because if I wasn’t at all clear, it’s _definitely_ something I want.”

 

Frank swallowed, the haze of worry still about him.

 

“I won’t take advantage of you,” he said.

 

Matt furrowed his brow, unsure how Frank thought that was relevant.

 

“You’re not taking advantage of me.”

 

“You've been hurt, stuck in this place for coming up on three weeks now, with only me for company.  I got no right to use that for my own purposes.”

 

Matt scoffed, finally realizing what was going on.

 

“Oh, come on, Frank.  You say that like this is some kind of isolation-induced infatuation I have – I’m not a helpless, bed-ridden patient being led astray by you.  That’s not where my interest comes from, believe me,” he said.  “I'm attracted to you in a lot of ways that have _nothing_ to do with you being my medic.”

 

He felt the way Frank’s cheeks reddened at this, suggesting that he did think Matt’s interest could be real.  But he shook his head again anyway, putting the clean gauze and bandages back into the first aid box.

 

“You’re still in my care,” Frank insisted.  “That messes up anything between us.”

 

But Matt wouldn’t give in, not now he knew what was making Frank so reluctant.

 

“What you’re talking about is compromised consent.  But that doesn’t apply here.  You have no way to manipulate me, no threats to make.  You’re not in a position of authority over me,” Matt explained.  “I might be physically weaker right now, but we both have emotional issues – neither of us have an advantage in that regard.  So there’s no power imbalance that would mean I can’t freely agree to an intimate situation with you.”

 

Frank huffed, no doubt throwing him a look. “Christ, you really are a lawyer, aren’t you?” he muttered.

 

Matt’s mouth curled into a half-smile. “Yeah,” he agreed.  “Being argumentative is in my nature.”

 

Frank was finished packing away all the medical supplies and now stood by the sink, hands braced on the kitchen bench.  His head was slightly bowed and Matt could sense the frown across his brow.  Evidently his mind was racing, processing what Matt was saying to him, but nothing about his breathing indicated he could yet put it into words.

 

Matt went on.

 

“And in case you’re wondering, I hadn’t planned any of this either.  When you first brought me up here, I thought of us as allies at _best_ ; I didn’t think I’d wind up wanting to take you to bed.  So it’s a surprise to me too.”

 

Frank gave a soft snort.

 

“ _Surprise_.  That’s one way of putting it.”

 

Matt let him think for another few moments before speaking again.

 

“There’s no expectation here, Frank.  I’m just letting you know that I _am_ interested, and you don’t have to worry about whether you’re taking advantage of the situation,” he said.  “But I won’t make you do this if you don't want to.”

 

Frank gave a faint smile, pulling his hands back off the bench and standing upright.

 

“You can't make me do anything, Red.  I _choose_.”

 

Matt returned the grin.

 

“That’s what I thought.  So I’ll leave it up to you.”

 

Frank looked over at him now, and Matt was surprised to sense a soft, almost bashful expression on his face.

 

“You really want to take me to bed?” he asked.

 

Matt chuckled at his disbelief. “Yeah.  I really do.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

Matt tipped his head.

 

“Do you want to take _me_ to bed?” he asked.

 

Frank opened his mouth, shifting.  He closed it again, exhaling slowly through his nose before replying.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Matt smiled.

 

“Okay.”

 

“I don’t mean it as anything against you,” Frank said.

 

“I know.  You mean, because you haven’t been with a man before.”

 

Frank didn’t reply, but Matt could feel a frown return to his brow and tension curl in his belly.

 

“I’m not trying to humiliate you,” Matt said quickly.  “It’s just obviously part of this.  And that’s alright.  Like I said, no expectation.”

 

Frank’s fingers briefly curled into loose fists before falling open again.  His nod was faint.

 

“I need time,” he said.  “To work things out.”

 

“Take whatever you need.  It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

 

Frank gave a small smile.

 

Matt wandered back to the bed and picked up his shirt, pulling it over his head.  He noticed Frank start to pack a few things into a small bag. 

 

“I’m going to head out,” Frank told him.  “I’ll see you later.”

 

“Okay.  Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

 

Frank grinned properly at this.

 

“Well, that’s sure some bullshit, Red – you know that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

 

“Yeah,” Matt smiled.  “But I can still hope.”

 

Frank gave him a playful shove with his shoulder on the way to the door, shaking his head.

 

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

The sparring had been Frank’s idea.

 

All that time spent recovering in bed, and then taking it easy around cabin, had taken its toll on Matt’s fitness.  If he wanted to return to being the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen any time soon, he’d need to train to get his muscles back into condition and reflexes sharp.  The cardio was easy enough, taking runs around the woods, and Frank had a punching bag out back where he could work on his upper body strength.  But it was combat he truly needed to regain familiarity with, or his first effort back tackling crime would likely render him incapacitated again.  He’d been toying with the idea of heading home and going to the gym; maybe there he could find someone to fight in the ring that wasn’t aware of his blindness.  Frank thought it too risky, especially in his own neighborhood, and instead offered to train with Matt himself.  It was the ideal solution, and Matt couldn’t think of any reason to say no.

 

Besides, it was an excuse to spend more time with Frank on a physical level, and Matt wasn’t going to pass that up either.

 

Frank hadn’t said anything or made any advances since their last discussion, but he hadn’t shied away from Matt either, his undercurrent of attraction still detectable.  He was obviously still thinking things over, and that was encouraging.  In the meantime, Matt was more than happy to pass the days sparring with him.

 

At first, they took it slow, with Frank just acting as an opponent for Matt to take swings at while he practiced his form.  It wasn’t particularly fun, but it was necessary, and after a couple of days Matt felt his muscle memory starting to return.  Then, when Matt was a little more comfortable in their rhythm, Frank stopped his full defensive postures and started throwing in attacks here and there. 

 

He struck Matt in the head, in the stomach, in the side of his chest – never too hard, but enough to smart and remind him to keep his guard up.  He noticed Frank was also very careful to avoid any injured areas, like where his ribs had been fractured and the largely-healed gash in his thigh.  Certainly, the soldier had tended him long enough to have committed all of Matt’s wounds to memory, but the gesture of consideration was still greatly appreciated.

 

After a few more days, it proved to be an interesting dynamic during combat.  Frank was essentially at a handicap, having to avoid certain moves or strikes to prevent causing injury, but Matt, now recovered to almost full strength, was free to take on Frank any way he pleased.  He didn’t hold back either, taking shots here and there, and driving him away as he would in a boxing match, until Frank yielded.

 

Initially, Matt knew this was this was simply Frank granting him the wins for practice, so he wouldn’t feel too discouraged.  But as Frank actually began to put in effort and still found himself gaining little ground, his mood changed.  The unfair odds riled him up, and by their seventh day of sparring, it all came to a head.

 

Matt had launched into a flurry of moves and hits that had Frank backing up into the tree-line of the clearing where they trained.  He’d countered for a little while, blocking a lot of Matt’s bigger punches, and managing to wrestle him back to their starting positions at one point.  But eventually, again, Matt had gotten the upper hand, and was currently battling Frank near the base of a tree.

 

Matt could feel the frustration humming beneath Frank’s skin, the way he used all his strength to restrain his hits.  He wanted so much to unleash his full force; the desperation was so strong that Matt could taste it on his tongue.

 

And that was only part of it.

 

The physical exertion had ratcheted up the testosterone in Frank’s bloodstream, and coupled with the adrenaline from combat, it turned him into a walking chemical cocktail.  It wreaked havoc on Matt’s senses, and in the middle of this training session, he found his head flooded with images of everything he wanted to do to Frank.

 

He was sure he wasn’t the only one either.  Because as he managed to spin Frank around by his arm and pin it against his back, he heard a raggedness in Frank’s breathing and rushing of blood around his body that wasn’t anything to do with exercise.

 

Their faces were close as Matt kept him restrained, and he could hear Frank’s pounding heart and sense his gaze as it swept from top to bottom over Matt’s features.  It lingered, just for a moment, at Matt’s mouth, and when he looked up again, Frank’s irises were a thin ring around blown, black pupils.

 

Matt grinned, a little manic.

 

“Come on, Frank.  Is this the best you’ve got?” he goaded.

 

Frank escaped his hold, and not a moment later, shoved Matt up against the tree trunk, forearm across his collarbone.  They struggled for a few seconds, muscles straining to overcome one another, and limbs jerking in the hopes of a lucky blow.  But all it did was fix their bodies flush, and Matt found himself with one knee hooked around Frank’s hip, with the soldier positioned between his legs.  One of Frank’s hands gripped Matt’s thigh, the other about his throat, and Matt’s arm was wrapped around his shoulder, holding him by the back of the neck.

 

If Frank hadn’t been worked up by their earlier grappling, he certainly was now.  The pulse of blood to his groin was as strong as that in his throat, and Matt could taste the pool of saliva forming in his mouth as he panted out breaths.  His skin was aflame with heat, a fever that had his body almost shaking with want.

 

Frank leaned forward to touch their foreheads together, his lids low as he fixated on Matt’s mouth. “This is the best I’ve got,” he growled.  “Good enough for you, Red?”

 

Matt breathed him in, all the sweat, body odor and hormones forming a heady mix that bloomed through his nasal cavity and across his tongue.  Frank made him hungry in ways he’d almost forgotten, and he let his mouth fall open a little to draw in even more.

 

“It’s getting there,” Matt gasped.

 

Frank tilted his head forward to nudge their noses, and for a moment Matt was sure Frank was going to kiss him.  Every signal coming off his body indicated that was what he wanted to do, was about to, yet he still held back.

 

Frank closed his eyes, the rest of him now trembling with restraint.

 

“You’re always trying to provoke me, huh?” Frank murmured.

 

Matt’s exhalation was ragged. “Yeah.”

 

As he spoke, his lips nearly grazed Frank’s, and he heard the soldier’s heart stutter in his chest.  Frank shifted his hips slightly, increasing the pressure between their groins, and there was no way he wouldn’t be able to tell that Matt was hard in his sweatpants.

 

Matt barely swallowed down the groan in his throat; Frank made a gruff, growling sound, and twitched his grip around Matt’s neck.

 

“You want more, Red?”

 

Matt swallowed. “ _Yes_.”

 

He felt Frank work through several swallows of his own, a ripple of uncertainty washing over the soldier.  It was clear he was waging some kind of internal war again, as he fluctuated between reigning in his fierce desire, possibly out of that misplaced sense of propriety, and just releasing its full force upon Matt.

 

Frank’s next move was to skirt toward that edge again, his hips rolling in a more deliberate fashion this time to grind their bodies together.  Matt’s sharp inhalation came out as a gasp, and his hand grabbed onto Frank’s at his thigh, his leg tightening around him instinctively.  Frank’s head slipped to the side of Matt’s face now, and he let out his own low grunt, breathing hard into Matt’s ear.

 

“You shouldn’t,” Frank muttered.

 

“Why?”

 

“I’ll hurt you.”

 

Matt pressed his lips up against Frank’s ear, exhalations hot. “ _Good_.”

 

Frank shuddered at this, and let out another guttural sound.  His chest was heaving, heartbeat like a pounding drum inside Matt’s head.  Matt knew there wasn’t much more Frank could be pushed until he snapped – by either laying fists into flesh out of frustration, or tearing off clothes and taking Matt up against the base of the tree.

 

It was the latter Matt was hoping for.

 

And it was because thoughts of this were burning their way furiously through Matt’s mind, that he was almost too late in his detection of four armed men closing in on their position.

 

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

 

“Get _down!_ ” Matt hissed.

 

Frank instinctively braced himself and tightened his grip as Matt launched them off the tree in a single spinning maneuver, narrowly avoiding a spray of bullets.  They tumbled down into the leaf litter, bodies still tangled and sticky with sweat.  But Frank quickly turned this to their advantage, yanking Matt even closer and using their momentum to roll them into a patch of undergrowth.

 

“How many?” Frank breathed, quickly climbing off where he had landed on Matt.

 

Matt was breathing hard.

 

“Four.  Two coming in from the west, one each north and south, trying to flank us.  Carrying rifles and shotguns, no explosives.”

 

Hunters were common around these parts, so Matt’s detection of firearms earlier in the day hadn’t been of great concern.  And of course, Frank had proximity sensors around his property should anyone get too close for his liking.  But the clearing where they’d been holding their sparring bouts was at a greater distance from the house; in hindsight, it was a senseless risk both of them had taken.

 

Frank’s heartbeat was still high from adrenaline, as well as their earlier interaction, but it wasn’t erratic or accelerating.  It was evident he wasn’t scared, and had shifted almost instantly from a primal state of arousal to military-operation mindset.

 

“How much time?”

 

Matt knew Frank had a knife strapped to his ankle, and could almost hear the gears turning in his head as he calculated the precise movements required to take down their attackers.

 

“Ten seconds at most for the two to the west.  The others are holding back, twelve meters away behind cover.”

 

Frank nodded, slipping the knife from its sheath.

 

“Right.  Got it.”

 

“ _Frank_ –”

 

But he was already slipping out of the scrub and advancing on the two closest assailants.

 

They took shots as soon as they spotted him, but Frank used his cover well and avoided any fire.  In the blink of an eye, he flung his knife into the throat of one, breaking out from behind a tree to slam his body forward and use the flailing man as a shield against the other.  The knife victim’s shotgun was in his hand almost immediately, and it didn’t take more than two or three quick movements for him to take down the other.  He then threw off his human shield and shot him point-blank in the face for good measure, before Matt had any chance to protest.

 

Sometimes he forgot how terrifyingly efficient Frank was at taking lives.

 

But he had little time to ponder this, as the two remaining men rushed on Frank with rifle fire, catching him in the shoulder before he managed to throw himself in cover again.  In their eagerness to take on Frank, the men had evidently forgotten about Matt in the scrub nearby.  He was able to flank one of them, taking his legs out from under and disarming him with one swift blow, throwing the rifle away into the leaf litter.

 

Matt felt his thigh wound pull as he tumbled out of the path of bullets from the remaining gunman, his ribs also aching as he took in gasping breaths.  Despite his capability in sparring against Frank, it seemed his body wasn’t quite ready for full-blown combat just yet.  He would have to be more calculating in how he took down the last man.

 

But then Frank was headlong into battle again, evading the last assailant’s fire and bearing down upon him like his shoulder hadn’t been ripped open by a bullet only moments before.  Matt could taste the blood splattered across his body, some of it his own, some of it not, and the gunshot residue over his hands as he wrestled the weapon from the man.  Frank’s movements were instinctive and unrelenting as he began to beat the man with the butt of the gun, who eventually fell over onto his back.  Frank flicked the gun around again and shot him twice in the chest.

 

Matt was so distracted with his own pain and captivated by the horror unfolding before him, that he didn’t sense the man he thought he’d knocked out until the knife was against his throat.  It was a threat for Frank, who had immediately noticed the hostage situation and turned his rifle in their direction.

 

“Drop the gun or I’ll–”

 

He didn’t even get to finish his sentence before Frank sunk a shot clean between his eyes.  His body dropped away limply onto the ground, Matt feeling the exact moment when his breaths and heart stopped.  Matt’s own exhalations were still coming hard, the smell of blood strong in his nostrils, and the chill of death churning in his stomach.

 

Then Frank was there beside him, marching over to grip him behind the neck, gaze searching.

 

“You hurt?” Frank asked.

 

Matt huffed out a laugh, almost hysterical.

 

“You’re _shot_ ,” he replied.

 

Frank looked down to regard his bloody shoulder, as though it were merely a paper-cut.

 

“It’s alright.  Only a graze, surface damage.  I’ll take care of it later.  So, what about you?”

 

Matt shook his head.

 

“No, no, I’m fine.  Not what I should be in a fight at the moment, but otherwise fine.”

 

“Good,” Frank said.  “Cos I’m gonna need to go and get rid of these bodies, and I can’t do that and take care of you at the same time.”

 

Matt started to help collect up the firearms as Frank dragged the bloodied corpses to the edge of the clearing.  He felt mildly slighted by Frank’s implication, as though it were more than fighting that he couldn’t manage at the moment.  It was difficult keeping the indignation out of his voice.

 

“I don’t need taking care of.”

 

Frank threw him a wry grin.

 

“Sure you don’t.”

 

“I was injured, Frank, that’s all.  And I’m almost completely healed now; it’s not like I need anyone fussing over me.”

 

Frank finished piling the bodies, pulling the last of any identification from their pockets.  The smile was still playing on his lips when he walked past Matt, heading back towards the house.

 

“Whatever you say, Red.”

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

 

 

Frank was gone for nearly an hour, after wrapping the bodies in tarp and loading them in the back of his truck.  He didn’t tell Matt where he was going, and Matt didn’t ask; he figured it was better he didn’t know, both for capture and ethical purposes.

 

Matt stored away the attackers’ firearms in the shed as Frank instructed, and then headed back to the house to stretch and shower.  His muscles were protesting both the sparring and the unexpected combat, so he spent a great deal of time lengthening them out to avoid further injury.  Despite knowing hot water was in limited supply out here, he also stayed in the shower for a good while, getting rid of all the sweat, dirt and blood off his skin.  It was only unfortunate that it meant washing the smell of Frank off too, which was something he’d been enjoying all day.

 

Matt sensed Frank’s return while he was finishing up in the bathroom, having a quick shave and applying some betadine to a few of his scrapes.

 

When he stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist, he found Frank sitting at the table, stitching the wound in his shoulder.  He had his shirt off, but was still wearing the faded slacks from sparring, and no socks.  His skin was grimy with dried sweat and blood, and there were a few smears of dirt on his neck and the swell of his biceps.  Realizing the adrenaline and testosterone from earlier hadn’t really worn off yet, Matt had to try very hard not to groan outwardly at the state of him.

 

Instead, he nodded at Frank and headed over to sit on the edge of the bed.

 

“I take it your shoulder’s alright then, like you said?” he asked.

 

Not looking up, Frank continued the slow stitches through skin, the tips of his fingers sticky with blood.  Matt swallowed, tasting the copper over his tongue.

 

“Yeah.  Not too bad,” Frank said.  “If those shitbreaks had known how to use a rifle properly, it might’ve been different.”

 

Matt supposed that told Frank something about who it was that had come after him, but if he had any idea, he didn’t share it.  Not that Matt was in any state to listen anyway.  He was still too distracted by the steady pulse of Frank’s heartbeat from the artery in his throat, and the movement of muscles over the side of his ribs.  Matt found his senses traveling down the fine curve of Frank’s waist and then to the protrusion of his hip just above the waistband of his pants.

 

“Something I can help you with there, Red?”

 

Pulling himself from his reverie, Matt frowned, tipping his head.

 

“No.  I’m fine.”

 

Frank paused, lifting his gaze now.

 

“Hmm.  Okay.  Well, how about you stop looking at me like I’m a glass of water and you’ve been marching through a desert for days then, huh?”

 

“Uh– what?”  Matt scoffed.  “I’m blind, Frank – I can’t ‘look’ at you like anything.”

 

“Come on, Red, don’t do that.  Don’t pretend.”

 

“I’m…”  Matt trailed off as he felt Frank continue to watch him.  He sighed.  “You’re right.  I shouldn’t play games.”  He went on.  “And I‘m sorry, I wasn’t meaning to stare.  I guess I’m still wired from everything that happened today.  And honestly, you sitting there with your shirt off just short-circuits my brain a little.”

 

Frank gave a half-smile.

 

“That’s funny, seeing as you seem to forget to put one _on_ most days.”

 

Matt furrowed his brow, his mouth falling open.

 

“That– that’s not deliberate,” Matt assured him.  “Most of the time I’m either in need of patching up or dirty from training, that it just seems easier not to.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

Frank finished the last stitch in his arm, tying it off and snipping it with the scissors.  He took a cotton ball and soaked it in betadine, swabbing off the wound and then cleaning around the area with another fresh one.

 

Matt felt him take a breath in.

 

“It wasn’t a complaint,” Frank said, eyes on his work.

 

“What?”

 

“About the shirt.”

 

Matt let the statement hang for a few moments.  Frank had never been forward with any sort of admiration for Matt’s body, so this was both new and strange.  It made Matt smile.

 

“So, you like me with no shirt on?”

 

Frank gave a short huff of annoyance.

 

“Didn’t I just say that?”

 

“Yeah.  I was making sure I’m not going crazy, because Frank Castle just told me he has the hots for me.”

 

Frank’s brow dropped into a frown.

 

“Why you gotta do that, Red?”

 

“Do what?”

 

“Make it sound like some stupid thing?  Like this ain’t a big deal,” Frank said.  “Or maybe it isn’t for you.  Hell, what do I know.”

 

Matt sighed.

 

“Frank…”

 

He stood up off the bed now, approaching Frank where he was seated at the table.  He sat down in the chair next to him and reached for his hand that was still dabbing at the freshly-stitched wound.  He stilled Frank’s movements, lifting the hand away to make him set the cotton ball on the table.  Frank watched him, quiet, the elevation in his heartbeat and tension in his belly telegraphing his growing nervousness.

 

“I don’t think it’s some stupid thing,” Matt said, gently now.  “Maybe I’m not as shaken by it as you are, but it _is_ a big deal.”

 

He still had hold of the side of Frank’s hand, and he let his thumb stroke gently over the back.  The skin was softer here, though still marked with cuts and bruises, and grime from the events of that day.  Matt wanted to feel all of it, and more, under the whole of his hands, no matter how damaged and dirty Frank might be.

 

Frank was controlling his breathing, but Matt could still feel the heaviness there, the fight to heave in bigger lungfuls of air in response to Matt’s touch.

 

Frank swallowed.

 

“Okay.”

 

Matt lifted his other hand to Frank’s injured shoulder, his fingertips coming up to trace the skin just below the stitches.  Frank made a noise in his throat, but Matt could sense it was less about pain and more about the other sensations being invoked from the contact.  He continued down, following the shape of Frank’s bicep from top to bottom, front to back, before trailing to the inside of his elbow and then his forearm.  Matt let his fingers linger on Frank’s wrist, the pulse loud and harsh here, and when he brought his focus back to Frank’s face, he could see his cheeks now painted with heat.

 

Matt then pulled his hand away from Frank’s arm and brought it to his jaw, slowly sliding his fingers along to map a path from his chin to behind his ear.  He traced the shell of Frank’s ear, and then reached behind to his hairline, the short stubble a prickly contrast to the soft skin immediately next to it.  He felt the way Frank’s breathing became ragged at this, and his heart was a hammer inside his ribcage.  Matt’s own heartbeat was frantic, and he licked his lips unconsciously, his face drawn close to the soldier’s.

 

Matt knew he’d promised he wouldn’t push, that he’d leave Frank to make his own decision about what he wanted.  But being in endless situations like this where he could feel Frank’s desperate want of him, and after everything that had happened today, Matt couldn’t honor that agreement anymore.

 

Spreading his fingers out to hold Frank’s head, Matt leaned in and brushed his lips against Frank’s, his eyelids dropping low.  It was a whisper of a kiss, not much more than a mouthing suggestion of it, but the contact was enough to take Matt’s breath from him, and for Frank’s heartbeat to grow to a thunder in his ears.  Matt only barely pulled back before repeating the gesture, another sweep and press of their mouths together, followed by a nuzzle of his nose against Frank’s.

 

On the third pass, Frank’s lips moved to meet his, just a little, and surprisingly gently, but enough to hold the kiss longer than before, and make Matt’s fingers curl into Frank’s hand upon the table.  When they broke apart, Frank exhaled hard through his nose, a shuddering breath, his lids fallen low.  Again, Matt hardly moved away, and let his thumb stroke just behind Frank’s ear.

 

Frank seemed to be watching him again, gaze still and steady, in the way he did when he was assessing a situation. Despite all his senses telling him Frank was about to act, Matt felt like he should say something.

 

“I shouldn’t have–”

 

But Frank didn’t even let him finish the sentence, crushing his lips against Matt’s and grasping his head between both hands.  He kissed him aggressively, leaning forward from the table to press Matt back into his chair, the gentle pecks of moments ago now well and truly forgotten.  Frank mouthed and nudged at Matt’s lips until Matt parted them, a tongue quickly slipping in and licking against his own, drawing a groan from the vigilante.  This only spurred Frank on, a hand sliding behind his neck to force their mouths together, the other splaying out along his jaw, thumb rubbing at the pulse in Matt’s throat.

 

Matt let out a series of noises as Frank kissed him – gasps, sighs, grunts, moans – with the occasional exhalation of Frank’s name when the soldier drew back long enough for them to come up for air.  It was overwhelming in the best of ways, Matt’s heart pounding and his head dizzy.  He let his hands grasp and grab where they could – behind Frank’s neck, along his shoulder, over his arm, and eventually down to his thigh, which had slid between his own when the soldier had pushed forward.

 

Frank let out his own low sound as Matt’s hand travelled higher up his leg, thumb skirting the groin.  It was no surprise his slacks were already tented; Matt had sensed the rush of blood there from the first touches of his fingers at Frank’s shoulder.  Not that Matt blamed him, or was in any better state himself.  They’d been skirting around this tension between them for so long now that the release of it was impossible to control.  At this rate, Matt suspected simply climbing into Frank’s lap and riding him fully-clothed would be enough to get them both off.

 

One of Frank’s hands dropped to Matt’s knee and mirrored his motions, sliding up the slackened towel to arrive just short of Matt’s groin.  His thumb moved with the same urgent stroking at the crease of Matt’s thigh, and Matt broke their kiss a moment to draw in a sharp breath, his stomach tightening at the proximity of Frank’s hand to his cock.  He knew how good those rough fingers would feel.  How hard and steady his strokes would be.  Matt wanted it all from Frank, and wasn’t sure how patient or sensible he would be once Frank was touching his bare skin.

 

But instead of continuing any further exploration, Frank leaned in and resumed their kiss, his hand remaining virtually still in its position.  Matt wondered what was giving him pause.  He didn’t seem particularly nervous, or repelled by the idea of touching Matt this way.

 

It was a few moments before he realized Frank had stopped because he didn’t know what to do next.  He had imitated what Matt had done, but nothing more.  And like a good soldier, he was now awaiting further instructions.  Matt found that both endearing and achingly arousing.  That said, playing copycat wasn’t what Matt wanted; there was no fun to be had when he knew what was about to happen.  He’d prefer to act as guide.

 

Matt placed his hand over Frank’s and pushed it deeper in his groin.  The side of Frank’s thumb pressed up against the base of his cock, the sensation of it causing Matt’s blood to beat harder in his veins.  It only escalated as Matt moved Frank’s hand further, drawing it up and onto the rise in the towel, the palm now coming to rest squarely between his legs.  He shaped Frank’s fingers so they molded around his cock and then pressed down, Frank squeezing instinctively.

 

Matt slipped out of their kiss to exhale a groan.

 

Frank pressed and rubbed slowly, still following Matt’s lead.  His lids were low, and breaths coming sharply.  Matt could feel how intently Frank watched his responses.  He pushed Frank’s middle finger to just below the head of his cock, then guided it up the center to feel out a circular motion at the top.

 

Frank was quick to follow along, tracing the same pattern over and over, until Matt was shaking, sighing, and the fabric of the towel damp with pre-come.

 

“ _Red_.”

 

The nickname was pulled raggedly from Frank’s throat.

 

After a few more strokes, Matt stilled Frank’s hand.  He lifted his head and brought their lips back together, kissing Frank slowly to try and steady himself.

 

Then he pressed a hand to Frank’s shoulder and gently eased him back, drawing Frank’s hands away from his neck and from between his legs.  Frank looked at him, breathing hard.  Matt could sense his confusion and, not wanting to worry him, cupped Frank’s jaw in his hand for a moment.

 

“Stand up,” Matt murmured.

 

Frank remained uncertain, but obeyed the instruction, slowly rising to his feet.  His pelvis was now at face-height to Matt, the swell of his cock plainly evident in standing position.  Matt took Frank’s hips in his hands and dipped his head forward, nose brushing the fabric that covered the heat beneath.  Frank made a choked sound, his fingers instinctively coming down to grip hard into Matt’s shoulder.  There was a violent jump in his pulse as Matt pressed his face further into Frank’s crotch, closing his eyes and inhaling the scent of him.  It was all sex, dark and animalistic, and it overwhelmed every receptor in Matt’s nose and tongue until he was salivating with want.

 

He mouthed Frank’s cock through his slacks.

 

“ _Christ_.”

 

Frank’s tone was even rougher than before.  Matt knew his patience was almost shot, and he couldn’t provoke him like this for much longer.

 

Pulling back, he lifted his head so Frank could see his face.  The soldier was staring down at him, body hard and tight with tension, and mouth open slightly.

 

“Take me to bed, Frank,” Matt said.

 

Frank didn’t reply, just took firmer hold of Matt’s shoulder and pulled him up from the chair.  He proceeded to manhandle him the short distance to the bed, possibly in retaliation for all the frustration Matt had caused.  Matt smiled.

 

Frank pushed him onto his back on the bed, the towel becoming mostly a modesty device covering Matt’s crotch as it came loose around his waist.  In another situation he might’ve just have pulled it off altogether.  But he wasn’t convinced Frank wouldn’t still just change his mind about all of this, and didn’t want to do anything to provoke that.  Though, Frank’s desperation seemed to be quashing any doubts, as he didn’t hesitate in climbing on top of Matt to join him on the bed.

 

The full weight of his warm body was more than welcome, Matt letting out a sigh at the pleasurable sensation and sliding a hand onto the bare skin of Frank’s back.  Despite still being separated by fabric, the firmness of Frank’s cock against his inner thigh sent more blood rushing to his own, and he pressed his other hand to Frank’s ass to buck up into it.

 

Frank buried his face at Matt’s ear, exhaling a grunt.

 

Matt could hear how frantic his heartbeat was, his breathing nearly a match.  Frank shifted a little, perhaps searching for a more comfortable position, and Matt let his legs splay apart until Frank’s hips were settled fully between them.  Frank let out a longer breath.

 

When he lifted his head, Matt immediately met him in a kiss, open-mouthed but shallow.  He brought one hand to the back of Frank’s head, rubbing it slowly as he kissed him, before sliding it down to rest at nape of his neck.

 

When they broke apart, Frank wouldn’t look at him, and there was a hint of sadness about him that Matt couldn’t place.

 

But Frank didn’t give him a chance to question it, pressing them back into a kiss and shifting his right arm to brace just above Matt’s shoulder.  His other hand went down to Matt’s leg, which he pulled up into a bend, spreading out his fingers as he rubbed a path up Matt’s thigh.  It didn’t stop as it reached the towel, instead sliding under onto more bare skin at the top of Matt’s leg and feeling out the shape of his hip.

 

Frank’s fingers then slid back down to grip his thigh, and he paused their kisses to grind his hips down into the bed.  Matt’s mouth fell open and a soft moan escaped it.  He could feel low noises in Frank’s throat too, and his hand grabbed at Frank’s ass again.

 

The fabric of towels usually felt somewhat unpleasant against his skin, but the thin nature of the one he was wearing actually created a more than satisfying friction now.  Especially when Frank thrust against him like that – a maneuver he apparently felt comfortable doing of his own volition, even though he was with a man this time.  Though, Matt supposed dry-humping was probably a universally-enjoyed experience, regardless of gender.  And Frank must have found some security in it, because he continued on with the firm rocking of their hips, building into a steady pace.

 

Matt pulled Frank’s mouth back to his and slid his tongue in, hand still behind his neck.  Their kisses were a haphazard, both of them a little too distracted by the sensations induced from the rub of their bodies together.  But Matt carried on regardless; he’d been craving Frank’s kiss for so many days now, he was going to make the most of it while he still had it.

 

Not that Frank was stopping either.  His lips moved from Matt’s mouth to his cheek, to his jaw, and down to his throat, until Matt was arching his neck under them and running his hands over the back of Frank’s head.  His sighs were heavy, mouth falling open as his eyes rolled back.

 

“ _God_ …” Matt murmured.

 

He felt Frank smile against his skin, and his breath was hot there as he spoke.

 

“Guess I’m doing something right to make you blaspheme.”

 

Matt chuckled, taking the moment to catch his breath.

 

“You’re doing a lot right, believe me.”

 

He let his hands stroke at the base of Frank’s skull as Frank resumed his trail of open-mouthed kisses down his neck and under his jaw.  It was mostly just Frank licking and nosing over his skin, rather than anything delicate or precise, but Matt didn’t much care.  Whatever Frank wanted to give him, do to him, he would take; technique wasn’t important right now.

 

Besides, most of his focus was still on the way Frank grasped at his thigh and pushed his pelvis down onto his own.  It was both arousing and infinitely frustrating – it wasn’t quite enough to bring him over, but still built upon the ache deep in his belly that longed to find relief.

 

Matt slid his hand under the waistband of Frank’s slacks and grabbed the bare flesh of his ass, guiding the motion of his hips.  The sound Frank made wasn’t one of protest, so Matt continued, cupping his hand over one cheek and lifting his bent leg higher to allow greater access.  Frank’s mouth came back to his, and the unsteady heave of his breathing between kisses signaled just how close he was to the end of his tether.

 

After a few more moments, Matt pulled his hand back and began to tug at Frank’s slacks, sliding them down over his hip.  Frank broke their kiss and put his weight on his knees, reaching his arm back to help.  Once they were far enough down, he pushed them off with his feet and kicked them to one side.  Matt removed his towel and threw it off to join Frank’s slacks on the floor.

 

Though it wasn’t too much of a surprise with everything Matt had already gathered from his heightened senses, Frank wearing nothing was still a beautiful sight.  His cock was a ruddy concentration of blood, damp at the head and dark with wiry hair at the base.  All of the surrounding skin was also flushed with heat, and there was a light sweat gathered in the creases of his thighs and the dip of his ass.

 

Matt was given ample time to take in Frank’s full form because Frank made no attempt to lie back down on top of him.  It was then he noticed Frank’s brow was furrowed, and he was looking down into Matt’s face, troubled.

 

“I don’t have supplies,” Frank said, after a moment.  “For this.  For sex.”

 

Matt gave a half-smile.

 

“That’s okay,” he assured him.  “I wasn’t planning on doing that anyway.”

 

Frank’s frown deepened.

 

“I thought I was taking you to bed.”

 

“I meant that a little more literally,” Matt said.  “After all, it’s only our first date.”

 

“One of these days I’m gonna smack you for that smart mouth.”

 

Matt’s smile was soft.

 

“I actually did mean that part though – this is the first real sexual interaction we’ve had, Frank.  We don’t have to jump all the way in at the start,” he said. 

 

Frank was silent for a beat.

 

“Okay.  Makes sense.”

 

Matt tipped his head.

 

“I mean, unless you really want to.”

 

“No.  I just thought that’s what you wanted.”

 

Matt lifted his head to draw Frank into a kiss.  He was slow to pull away, leaving their lips close.  He stroked the back of Frank’s jaw with his thumb.

 

“I want whatever you’re comfortable with.  I told you – no expectations.”

 

Frank gave a brief nod and leaned in to join their mouths again.  He carefully lowered himself down off his knees to let his full weight fall on top of Matt, their bare bodies finally pressing together.  Frank let out a sound that was practically a growl, and Matt hummed in pleasure at the sensation.  It was almost too much, the complete skin to skin contact, with the length of Frank’s cock now positioned along his own.  Matt’s hand came down to trace the shape of his ass again, and he curled his pelvis to begin a slow grind of their groins together.

 

Frank immediately followed suit, resuming his same comfortable thrusting motions as before, and it wasn’t long before he was pulling Matt’s bent thigh up again and pawing at his hair as he kissed him.  Matt had his own hand at Frank’s throat and jaw, tracing shapes with the same rhythm of his tongue as it lapped and slid against Frank’s.  Their bodies quickly became slick with sweat and their movements desperate, both of them hurtling towards the precipice of release now.

 

Matt could sense the increasingly rapid pump of blood to Frank’s crotch and the taut pressure in the surrounding muscles, that told him it wasn’t going to take much at all for Frank to come.  It was something of a relief, given that Matt knew he was both unwilling and unable to keep control much longer himself.

 

He reached down to shove a hand between their bodies, Frank instinctively taking some weight off to give him room.  Frank’s forehead pressed hard against his and a rough, breathy sound came from his mouth as Matt wrapped a hand around his cock.  Matt gave it a few full strokes before taking his own with it, pressing them together and pulling in a faster rhythm.

 

Frank began thrusting along again as well, his motions erratic now, and Matt felt himself becoming overwhelmed by all the sensory input.  The smell of sex and sweat, the sound of Frank’s grunting exhalations, the hot and slippery feel of their flesh sliding together – it was too much for him to bear in such heightened intensity, and his control finally unraveled.

 

Matt gripped his leg tight around Frank and arched his body as orgasm took him, his mouth falling wide and brow furrowing across his closed eyes.  His hand was a fist around their cocks, pulling in rough starts, and he let himself get lost in the almost painful pulses of bliss.  It was only a moment and then Frank was coming too, grunting and pressing his face into the stretched expanse of Matt’s throat, his hips jerking into Matt’s touch.  He spilled wet and warm up Matt’s belly, and Matt’s senses picked up every contraction of muscle in his pelvis that delivered the repeated spikes of pleasure to Frank.

 

Only when they had diminished along with his own, and he felt Frank wrung dry, did Matt slow and cease his strokes, letting his hand fall loose.  Frank gave in to fatigue, weight coming off his knees and his body sagging on top of Matt’s.  Frank’s face was still buried in his neck, and Matt brought his free hand to lift Frank’s head a little, nuzzling along his cheek to meet him in a kiss.  It was slow and deep, and Matt felt just how heavy his own chest was with both contentment and indecipherable emotion.  He hadn’t exactly been sure what all of this with Frank was to begin with, but it certainly hadn’t turned out to be the simple, mutual physical relief he might’ve expected.

 

Even as Matt pulled back to take a breath, he felt the same wash of muddled satisfaction through Frank.  Coupled with the fog of hormones, bodily fluids, and the flush of blood under his skin, Frank was a blazing vision above him, and Matt couldn’t help but join their lips again.  His fingers stroked over Frank’s cheek, and Frank’s hand cradled his head, as they exchanged looser, open-mouthed kisses this time.

 

When Frank pulled back, his expression was serious, but Matt could detect the haze of gratification that still surrounded him.  Matt gave a sloppy grin, his hand now rubbing over the short crop of Frank’s hair.

 

It wasn’t until they started to disentangle and clean up that Frank’s mood seemed to shift, a thread of unease permeating his demeanor.  He was quick to wipe himself down and pull his slacks back on, also retrieving a shirt and sweater from the drawer, and pulling on his boots.  He was obviously not planning on coming back to bed, but Matt was still sluggish from the exertion and head too fuzzy to think about whether he should say something.  By the time he collected his thoughts, Frank had fled out the door into the cool of the early evening, a packet of smokes and lighter in his hand.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

 

 

Frank didn’t go very far, Matt sensing him cross the length of the porch and then several feet over onto the bare ground, just shy of the tree-line.  He took out a cigarette and lit it, the tobacco a sharp scent in Matt’s nose and mouth.  Frank wasn’t a habitual smoker, only seeming to take one here and there when he had a lot on his mind, and usually coupled with restless pacing.  Right now, he was standing still, eyes to the horizon, but the twitch of his fingers and tension across his brow were enough to broadcast his turbulent mood.  The initial experience of lying naked and getting off together apparently wasn’t enough to spook Frank, but something about the gravity of it all immediately after seemed to be.

 

Matt left him for a minute or two, finishing his clean-up and getting dressed slowly to give Frank a chance to process what he needed.  Not that he blamed him – Matt didn’t have an explanation for everything he was feeling either, and knowing how deeply Frank could be affected by things, it was probably worse in his case.

 

Matt pulled on his hoodie and padded over to the kitchen to collect a soda from the fridge.  The sugar hit was welcome after the weariness of sex, and he finished off half the bottle before setting it back on the shelf.  Then he turned back to the front of the house, his bare feet thudding over the wooden floor as he made his way to the door.

 

Frank didn’t turn at the noise of it opening and closing, though Matt could feel the way his body stilled on his approach.  He came to stand slightly behind the soldier, and to one side, his senses trained on the lift and lower of the cigarette in Frank’s hand.

 

Matt waited for him to be ready.

 

“You know those moments in your life, Red,” Frank started.  “When you think you see where a situation is headed, how it’s gonna end, how all the pieces are gonna fall.  It seems so damn straightforward, so simple, that you don’t imagine how it could ever end up any different.”

 

Matt didn’t immediately reply.  Frank went on.

 

“I used to think that about you.”

 

“I don’t think our interaction has _ever_ been simple, Frank,” Matt smiled.

 

“Maybe not all the time.  At first, I didn’t know you, didn’t care to.  And you didn’t understand me, couldn’t really.  But we learnt, as things happened, understood what the other was thinking, why.  Alright, we didn’t agree, but I got what it was you were doing, and respected that.  How I thought about you wasn’t complicated.  Not then.”

 

“It is now?”

 

Frank kept going as though Matt hadn’t asked the question.

 

“Even when the physical part started, it wasn’t that bad.  It seemed crazy at first, yeah – me feeling that way about a man, not a woman.  Hell, if someone had told me that six months ago, I would’ve said they were batshit.  And it screwed with my head, wanting you like that,” Frank said.  “But the end point wasn’t hard to figure out.  Sex can be nothin’, mean nothin’.  And that’s what I thought it would be, that’s how I thought it’d play out with you.  Nice and easy – simple, just like it’s always been.”  He was silent for a brief moment before he spoke again, flicking his depleted cigarette on the floor and stubbing it out with his boot.  “I wasn’t ready for _this_ God damn mess.”

 

Matt knew what he meant by that.  It was too soon to be feeling anything at this depth for someone else.  The ache of loss was still too fresh, despite the fact that it was the reason both of them had desperately scrambled for intimacy with each other.  And Matt should have been more careful, should have held back a little, perhaps not been so quick to be tender with Frank.

 

Not that he could really help it.  He’d never been good at keeping emotional distance from people, not without cutting them off completely.  A lot of the time it was all or nothing, and Matt had a feeling Frank was the same.  Which was another weakness of his – gravitating toward relationships that weren’t healthy for either party.  Despite knowing how destructive they could be, Matt went ahead with them anyway.

 

 “I’m not exactly known for my commitment after I’ve seduced someone,” Matt said.  “So I wasn’t expecting or planning anything more than I said to you in the beginning.”  He paused.  “But you’re right – things got complicated.  I can’t write this off as just another no-strings encounter.”

 

Frank was quiet for a while before he spoke again.

 

“So, now what?”

 

“I honestly don’t know,” Matt said.  “We’re both screwed up.  It would probably be a disaster to continue anything between us, even if we tried to keep it simple.  The best thing would be to take today as single act of mutual relief and move on.”

 

Frank turned his head now, a mix of both apprehension and longing radiating off him.

 

“That’s what you want?” he asked.

 

Matt gave a half-smile.  He stepped close to Frank now, lifting fingertips to his face.  Frank’s heartrate rose at his touch, and his skin bloomed with heat.  Matt leaned in to press a slow, soft kiss against Frank’s lips, his own heart starting to beat harder in his chest.

 

“I’m also not known for wanting sensible things,” he said, after pulling away.  “I don’t think either of us should make decisions on that basis.”

 

Frank swallowed, his hand twitching at Matt’s hip, where it had strayed when Matt had kissed him.

 

“And probably not just after sharing a bed with each other either,” he murmured.

 

Matt smirked.

 

“That too.”  He moved back a little, breaking contact, his expression turning more serious.  “And speaking of your bed, I don’t think I need it anymore, not really.  Okay, my fighting skills aren’t up to scratch, but I’m well enough to head home.  So I think it would be a good idea if I left.  Give us some space, get rid of any cabin fever.”  Frank’s brow was furrowed, but he gave a faint nod.  Matt went on.  “And this, with us, can be whatever it needs to.  If it ends up being a time where we were both frustrated and lonely, and found solace in each other just once, then that’s fine,” he said.  “But if you decide that there’s something else, something you want to follow, wherever it goes, then find me.  Because even though I should know better and it might end badly, or not even work at all – it doesn’t matter.  I’m willing to try, Frank.  If you are.”

 

Frank seemed a little stunned, Matt sensing the way his words provoked both confusion and unexpected affection in the other man.  But Frank kept whatever turmoil of emotions he had to himself, replying in his usual brief manner.

 

“Okay.”

 

Matt reached over to trace his fingers down the side of Frank’s arm one last time, and then stepped back.

 

“I’ll get packed up, head out to the road.  I’ll call for a cab once I’m out there,” he said.

 

“I can drive you back,” Frank said.

 

“No, you’ve already done so much for me.  More than I can ever properly thank you for.  I’ll be fine, I promise.”

 

Frank nodded again.

 

“Guess I’ll see you round then, Red.”

 

“Yeah, you will,” Matt smiled.

 

 


	12. Epilogue

 

 

_Two months later_

 

 

The streets of Soho were always somewhat tricky for Matt move through when he wasn’t in civilian clothing.  Certainly, they were narrow enough to cross easily from rooftop to rooftop, and the old buildings had plenty of fire escapes, ladders and ledges to enable efficient scaling of walls.  But this was an area of money.  People here were more paranoid, more vigilant, and much more likely to report someone clambering over their apartment block in the middle of the night.

 

It was also the reason Matt didn’t usually need to come down this end of the city so late – the crime here was likely to be of the white collar variety, rather than street or gang violence.  But tonight he was tracking a particular person, and there wasn’t much he could do about when and where his target’s business ended up.

 

Matt’s senses narrowed in on the figure on one of the lower rooftops, a couple of buildings across and in the deep shadow of the high-rise beside it.  If Matt had possessed only normal human sight and hearing, there was little chance he would have spotted him.  He was virtually invisible in the dark corner where he was set up, and any movements he made were so slow and careful that a regular person would have to be standing right next to him to hear anything.  Perhaps the brief glint of his gun scope could be seen on occasion, but that would still require binoculars and knowledge of which building he was on to begin with.  And the target was too well-trained to have been seen getting into position.  As far as the rest of the city was concerned, he wasn’t even there at all.

 

But Matt Murdock knew.

 

He could hear his steady heartbeat and slow breaths, and detect the sharp scent of cologne across his chest and throat, even under the layers of clothing and body armor.  He felt the stroke of his finger on the trigger of the rifle, ready, but not on high alert yet.  Matt had him perfectly isolated in his senses, and felt no fear as he crossed the last rooftop onto the building directly beside.  He squatted, all perception focused down onto the figure below him, half a dozen feet away.

 

“Think I didn’t notice you up there, Red?” Frank asked.

 

He didn’t turn as he spoke, eyes still trained over the scope of his gun.

 

Matt scaled down the wall, making his way toward Frank.

 

“No,” he smiled.  “I didn’t think that at all.”

 

He felt Frank’s finger twitch on the trigger.

 

“Deliberately trying to get my attention, huh?”

 

Matt’s movements were swift and graceful over the small skylight that separated them, and he crossed the flat of the roof Frank was occupying to close the final distance.

 

“And what if I was?”

 

He made no attempt to keep the flirtation out of his voice.

 

“Then I’d say you were looking to get your ass beat,” Frank told him.  “You know not to get in my way when I’m doing this.”

 

“Good thing I know your target’s not coming then.  I don’t have to worry about you hurting me.”  He moved up beside Frank now, leaning his head forward to murmur into his ear.  “Though I’m sure if I asked nicely, you’d still oblige.”

 

Frank relaxed out of his poised position and turned his head, no doubt giving Matt a well-deserved withering look.

 

“Well, I never did smack you for that smart mouth.  So we could start with that.”

 

Matt chuckled, and Frank’s expression immediately softened.

 

The soldier set his rifle down and curled a hand behind Matt’s neck, pulling him in.  He kissed him slow, like he always did, with a tenderness that made Matt’s heart ache in his chest.

 

When they’d decided to do this, when Frank had found him a month ago, told him he wanted more, Matt had known from the first kiss that it was going to be agony.  Frank’s affection burned so hot, he couldn’t keep it out of their sexual encounters, and Matt didn’t even try to stop him.  He couldn’t deny Frank, didn’t want to; he craved the intimacy Frank was so willing to offer him.

 

By the time they broke apart, Matt’s gloved fingers were curled into the fabric of Frank’s shirt, and Frank’s free hand had found its way to the small of his back.  His mouth was painted bright from the rush of blood, as were his cheeks.  Matt found him so beautiful at times like this, though he never said it aloud.

 

“You know, I won’t be able to kiss you properly if you hurt my face,” Matt murmured.  “And I think it’s safe to say you quite enjoy that.”

 

He leaned in to join their mouths again, kissing him more in earnest and walking them back toward the wall.  He slotted their bodies together as Frank’s back hit the bricks, and his fingers searched around the edges of Frank’s vest to find the warmth of his skin.  Matt didn’t protest when Frank pushed his mask off, hands going into his hair as he was kissed keenly in return.  The pitch black of the shadow was enough to hide them, so Matt had no worry about being recognized, nor even being seen making out on the top of a building.

 

Feeling bold, Matt let the hard leather of his thigh strap press into Frank’s crotch.  Frank made a low noise in the back of his throat and reached down to grab at Matt’s ass, his jaw clenching.  When he pulled his face back, he was breathing hard.

 

“You’re a real son of a bitch sometimes, you know that, Red?”

 

Matt grinned.

 

“Frustrating you, am I?” he asked.

 

“If I knew how to get into that damn suit of yours, I’d have you right here on the rooftop,” Frank growled.

 

Matt chuckled, and leaned forward to capture a few more open-mouthed kisses.  He knew Frank was too respectful about sex to actually do something like that, but Matt appreciated the suggestion nonetheless.

 

“Oh Frank, what would people think?  Seeing the big, bad Punisher being tender with his sworn enemy.  Not ideal for that tough reputation you have.”

 

Frank smirked.

 

“I think it’d be yours that would suffer, not mine.  Everyone already hates me, so it makes no difference,” he said.  “You – you’re the hero.  Those fans of yours wouldn’t like finding out you’re going to bed with a convicted murderer.”

 

Matt shrugged, still smiling.

 

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” he told him.  “I still want you.”

 

“Good.  Cos I ain’t done with you yet, Red.”

 

Matt stepped back, peeling his body from Frank’s, though a hand still lingered at his waist.

 

“Then let’s forget about the streets for the rest of tonight, and head back to my place.  Once we’re there, I can show you exactly _how_ I want you,” he said, the suggestive tone returning to his voice.  “Unless you’d prefer to stay on this lonely rooftop waiting for a mark who isn’t coming.”

 

Frank gave a half-smile.

 

“Well, when you put it like that.”

 

Matt grinned, and pulled his mask back on.  Frank leant down to start collecting his belongings, packing up his rifle and screwing the lid back on his thermos of coffee.  Matt’s senses came to fixate on him again, following the line of his movements and the patterns of heat his body radiated.  He still smelled good too, and Matt licked his lips at the memory of Frank’s mouth and skin.

 

“You know I can tell when you’re checking me out, right?” Frank said, not looking up.

 

“Yeah,” Matt smiled.  “Why do you think I do it?”

 

Frank smiled too and shook his head, zipping up his bag.

 

“You sure like getting yourself into trouble.”

 

Matt kissed him as he stood up, the soldier seemingly a little taken aback by the softness of the gesture.  He pulled back to let Frank look him in the face, his smile equally gentle now.

 

“As long as that trouble involves you,” he said.

 

He absolutely enjoyed being physical with Frank, of course he did, but despite all of his flippant words, there was more to all of this than just a booty call.  And maybe someday soon Matt would tell him that.  But not tonight.

 

He stepped away, letting Frank shoulder his bag.  They began to walk across the rooftop to the back of the building.  Matt knew there was an external fire escape there for Frank to use, so he wouldn’t have to follow Matt’s acrobatics down to street level.

 

“Need company for the mess you make, huh?” Frank said, a belated reply.

 

Matt turned his face to him a little, the smile still playing on his lips.

 

“I’d say sorry, but I know you enjoy it.”

 

“Yeah,” Frank murmured.  “I guess I do, Red.”

 

They reached the back edge of the building, and Frank dropped his bag onto one of the escape grates below.  Just as Frank was about to start climbing down, Matt reached across to slide a hand down the nape of Frank’s neck.  Frank paused, turning his head and quirking an eyebrow.  Then he pressed a brief kiss against Matt’s mouth, a smile curling onto his lips.  Matt could hear the heavy, rapid beat of his heart through his vest.  The distinct glow of fondness surrounded Frank’s face when he pulled away.

 

“Come on,” Frank said.  “Let’s get the hell out of here and back to your place, so I can get you out of those God damn pajamas.”

 

Matt chuckled, and then followed Frank as he began to descend the stairs.

 

 

~*~

_Maybe you'll let me look out for you_

_Protect what I found in you_

_And never let it starve_

_Then that way, you let me stay_

_Skirtin' the skirt like I want to_

_And I will try hard to hold onto you with open arms_

~*~


End file.
